CINDERELLA 

AND  OTHER  STORIES 


"  He  looked  beyond,  through  the  dying  tire, 
into  the  succeeding  years." 


CINDERELLA 


AND   OTHER  STORIES 


BY 
RICHARD   HARDING  DAVIS 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1896 


Copyright,  iSgb, 
BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNKR'S  SONS. 


V  The  starve  in- this  volume  have  appeared  in  Scribner's  Maga 
zine,  Harpers  'Magazine,  WtrJcty,  *n-l  Voting  People;  and  "  The 
Reporter  wko.Madf  Himself  King*'  ahd  in  a  volume,  the  rest  of 
•which,  karuAtf ,]ad%rfrs*(trit&l/f,tc younger  readers. 


JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 

7 

PAGE 

CINDERELLA     .    . 1 

Miss  DELAMAR'S  UNDERSTUDY 36 

THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 76 

AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT .    .  105 

THE  REPORTER  WHO  MADE  HIMSELF  KING      .  119 


272572 


CINDERELLA 

/ 

THE  servants  of  the  Hotel  Salisbury,  which 
is  so  called  because  it  is  situated  on  Broad 
way  and  conducted  on  the  American  plan  by 
a  man  named  Riggs,  had  agreed  upon  a  date 
for  their  annual  ball  and  volunteer  concert, 
and  had  announced  that  it  would  eclipse 
every  other  annual  ball  in  the  history  of  the 
hotel.  As  the  Hotel  Salisbury  had  been 
only  two  years  in  existence,  this  was  not  an 
idle  boast,  and  it  had  the  effect  of  inducing 
many  people  to  buy  the  tickets,  which  sold 
at  a  dollar  apiece,  and  were  good  for  "one 
gent  and  a  lady,"  and  entitled  the  bearer  to 
a  hat-check  without  extra  charge. 

In  the  flutter  of  preparation  all  ranks  were 
temporarily  levelled,  and  social  barriers 
taken  down  with  the  mutual  consent  of  those 
separated  by  them;  the  night-clerk  so  far 
unbent  as  to  personally  request  the  colored 
hall-boy  Number  Eight  to  play  a  banjo  solo 
i 


2  CINDERELLA 

at  the  concert,  which  was  to  fill  in  the  pauses 
between  the  dances,  and  the  chambermaids 
timidly  consulted  with  the  lady  telegraph 
operator  and  the  lady  in  charge  of  the  tele 
phone,  as  to  whether  or  not  they  intended  to 
wear  hats. 

And  so  every  employee  on  every  floor  of 
the  hotel  was  working  individually  for  the 
success  of  the  ball,  from  the  engineers  in 
charge  of  the  electric  light  plant  in  the 
cellar,  to  the  night-watchman  *on  the  ninth 
story,  and  the  elevator-boys  who  belonged  to 
no  floor  in  particular. 

Miss  Celestine  Terrell,  who  was  Mrs. 
Grahame  West  in  private  life,  and  young 
Grahame  West,  who  played  the  part  opposite 
to  hers  in  the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  Opera 
that  was  then  in  the  third  month  of  its  New 
York  run,  were  among  the  honored  patrons 
of  the  Hotel  Salisbury.  Miss  Terrell,  in 
her  utter  inability  to  adjust  the  American 
coinage  to  English  standards,  and  also  in 
the  kindness  of  her  heart,  had  given  too 
generous  tips  to  all  of  the  hotel  waiters,  and 
some  of  this  money  had  passed  into  the 
gallery  window  of  the  Broadway  Theatre, 
where  the  hotel  waiters  had  heard  her  sing 


CINDERELLA  3 

and  seen  her  dance,  and  had  failed  to  recog 
nize  her  young  husband  in  the  Lord  Chan 
cellor's  wig  and  black  silk  court  dress.  So 
they  knew  that  she  was  a  celebrated  persoii- 
age,  and  they  urged  the  maitre  d'hdtel  to 
invite  her  to  the  ball,  and  then  persuade  her 
to  take  a  part  in  their  volunteer  concert. 

Paul,  the  head-waiter,  or  "Pierrot,"  as 
Grahame  West  called  him,  because  it  was 
shorter,  as  he  explained,  hovered  over  the 
two  young  -English  people  one  night  at 
supper,  and  served  them  lavishly  with  his 
own  hands. 

"Miss  Terrell,"  said  Paul,  nervously, — 
"I  beg  pardon,  Madam,  Mrs.  Grahame  West, 
I  should  say,  —  I  would  like  to  make  an 
invitation  to  you." 

Celestine  looked  at  her  husband  inquir 
ingly,  and  bowed  her  head  for  Paul  to 
continue. 

"The  employees  of  the  Salisbury  give  the 
annual  ball  and  concert  on  the  sixteenth  of 
December,  and  the  committee  have  inquired 
and  requested  of  me,  on  account  of  your 
kindness,  to  ask  you  would  you  be  so  polite 
as  to  sing  a  little  song  for  us  at  the  night  of 
our  ball ! " 


4  CINDERELLA 

The  head-waiter  drew  a  long  breath  and 
straightened  himself  with  a  sense  of  relief  at 
having  done  his  part,  whether  the  Grahame 
Wests  did  theirs  or  not. 

As  a  rule,  Miss  Terrell  did  not  sing  in 
private,  and  had  only^broken  this  rule  twice, 
when  the  inducements  which  led  her  to  do  so 
were  forty  pounds  for  each  performance,  and 
the  fact  that  her  beloved  Princess  of  Wales 
was  to  be  present.  So  she  hesitated  for  an 
instant. 

"Why,  you  are  very  good,"  she  said, 
doubtfully.  "Will  there  be  any  other  people 
there,  —  any  one  not  an  employee,  I  mean  ?  " 

Paul  misunderstood  her  and  became  a  ser 
vant  again. 

"No,  I  am  afraid  there  will  be  only  the 
employees,  Madam,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  then,  I  should  be  very  glad  to  come," 
murmured  Celestine,  sweetly.  "  But  I  never 
sing  out  of  the  theatre,  so  you  must  n't  mind 
if  it  is  not  good." 

The  head-waiter  played  a  violent  tattoo 
on  the  back  of  the  chair  in  his  delight,  and 
balanced  and  bowed. 

"  Ah,  we  are  very  proud  and  pleased  that 
we  can  induce  Madam  to  make  so  great 


CINDERELLA  5 

exceptions,"  he  declared.  "The  committee 
will  be  most  happy.  We  will  send  a  car 
riage  for  Madam,  and  a  bouquet  for  Madam 
also,"  he  added  grandly,  as  one  who  was  not 
to  be  denied  the  etiquette  to  which  he  plainly 
showed  he  was  used. 

"Will  we  come?"  cried  Van  Bibber, 
incredulously,  as  he  and  Travers  sat  watch 
ing  Grahame  make  up  in  his  dressing-room. 
"I  should  say  we  would  come.  And  you 
must  all  take  supper  with  us  first,  and  we 
will  get  Letty  Chamberlain  from  the  Gaiety 
Company  and  Lester  to  come  too,  and  make 
them  each  do  a  turn. " 

"And  we  can  dance  on  the  floor  ourselves, 
can't  we?"  asked  Grahame  West,  "as  they 
do  at  home  Christmas-eve  in  the  servants' 
hall,  when  her  ladyship  dances  in  the  same 
set  with  the  butler  and  the  men  waltz  with 
the  cook." 

"Well,  over  here,"  said  Van  Bibber, 
"you'll  have  to  be  careful  that  you're 
properly  presented  to  the  cook  first,  or  she  '11 
appeal  to  the  floor  committee  and  have  you 
thrown  out." 

"The  interesting  thing  about  that  ball," 


6  CINDERELLA 

said  Travers,  as  he  and  Van  Bibber  walked 
home  that  night,  "is  the  fact  that  those 
hotel  people  are  getting  a  galaxy  of  stars  to 
amuse  them  for  nothing  who  would  n't 
exhibit  themselves  at  a  Fifth  Avenue  dance 
for  all  the  money  in  Wall  Street.  And  the 
joke  of  it  is  going  to  be  that  the  servants 
will  vastly  prefer  the  banjo  solo  by  hall-boy 
Number  Eight. " 

Lyric  Hall  lies  just  this  side  of  the  Forty- 
second  Street  station  along  the  line  of  the 
Sixth  Avenue  Elevated  road,  and  you  can 
look  into  its  windows  from  the  passing  train. 
It  was  after  one  o'clock  when  the  invited 
guests  and  their  friends  pushed  open  the 
storm-doors  and  were  recognized  by  the 
anxious  committee-men  who  were  taking 
tickets  at  the  top  of  the  stairs.  The  com 
mittee-men  fled  in  different  directions, 
shouting  for  Mr.  Paul,  and  Mr.  Paul  arrived 
beaming  with  delight  and  moisture,  and 
presented  a  huge  bouquet  to  Mrs.  West, 
and  welcomed  her  friends  with  hospitable 
warmth. 

Mrs.  West  and  Miss  Chamberlain  took  off 
their  hats  and  the  men  gave'  up  their  coats, 
not  without  misgivings,  to  a  sleepy  young 


CINDERELLA  1 

man  who  said  pleasantly,  as  he  dragged  them 
into  the  coat-room  window,  "  that  they  would 
be  playing  in  great  luck  if  they  ever  saw  them 
again." 

"I  don't  need  to  give  you  no  checks,"  he 
explained:  "just  ask  for  the  coats  with,  real 
fur  on  'em.  Nobody  else  has  any." 

There  was  a  balcony  overhanging  the  floor, 
and  the  invited  guests  were  escorted  to  it, 
and  given  seats  where  they  could  look  down 
upon  the  dancers  below,  and  the  committee- 
men,  in  dangling  badges  with  edges  of  silver 
fringe,  stood  behind  their  chairs  and  poured 
out  champagne  for  them  lavishly,  and  tore 
up  the  wine-check  which  the  barkeeper 
brought  with  it,  with  princely  hospitality. 

The  entrance  of  the  invited  guests  created 
but  small  interest,  and  neither  the  beauty  of 
the  two  English  girls  nor  Lester's  well- 
known  features,  which  smiled  from  shop- 
windows  and  on  every  ash-barrel  in  the  N»-w 
York  streets,  aroused  any  particular  com 
ment.  The  employees  were  much  more 
occupied  with  the  Lancers  then  in  progress, 
and  with  the  joyful  actions  of  one  of  their 
number  who  was  playing  blind-man's-buff 
with  himself,  and  swaying  from  set  to  set  in 


8  CINDERELLA 

search  of  his  partner,  who  had  given  him  np 
as  hopeless  and  retired  to  the  supper-room 
for  crackers  and  beer. 

Some  of  the  ladies  wore  bonnets,  and 
others  wore  flowers  in  their  hair,  and  a  half- 
dozen  were  in  gowns  which  were  obviously 
intended  for  dancing  and  nothing  else.  But 
none  of  them  were  in  decollete  gowns.  A 
few  wore  gloves.  They  had  copied  the  fash 
ions  of  their  richer  sisters  with  the  intuitive 
taste  of  the  American  girl  of  their  class,  and 
they  waltzed  quite  as  well  as  the  ladies 
whose  dresses  they  copied,  and  many  of  them 
were  exceedingly  pretty.  The  costumes  of 
the  gentlemen  varied  from  the  clothes  they 
wore  nightly  when  waiting  on  the  table,  to 
cutaway  coats  with  white  satin  ties,  and  the 
regular  blue  and  brass-buttoned  uniform  of 
the  hotel. 

"  I  am  going  to  dance, "  said  Van  Bibber, 
"if  Mr.  Pierrot  will  present  me  to  one  of 
the  ladies." 

Paul  introduced  him  to  a  lady  in  a  white 
cheese-cloth  dress  and  black  walking-shoes, 
with  whom  no  oAe  else  would  dance,  and  the 
musicians  struck  up  "The  Band  Played  On," 
and  they  launched  out  upon  a  slippery  floor. 


CINDERELLA  9 

Van  Bibber  was  conscious  that  his  friends 
were  applauding  him  in  dumb  show  from  the 
balcony,  and  when  his  partner  asked  who 
they  were,  he  repudiated  them  altogether, 
and  said  he  could  not  imagine,  but  that  he 
guessed  from  their  bad  manners  they  were 
professional  entertainers  hired  for  the 
evening. 

The  music  stopped  abruptly,  and  as  he 
saw  Mrs.  West  leaving  the  balcony,  he  knew 
that  his  turn  had  come,  and  as  she  passed 
him  he  applauded  her  vociferously,  and  as 
no  one  else  applauded  even  slightly,  she 
grew  very  red. 

Her  friends  knew  that  they  formed  the 
audience  which  she  dreaded,  and  she  knew 
that  they  were  rejoicing  in  her  embarrass 
ment,  which  the  head  of  the  downstairs 
department,  as  Mr.  Paul  described  him, 
increased  to  an  hysterical  point  by  introdu 
cing  her  as  "Miss  Ellen  Terry,  the  great 
English  actress,  who  would  now  oblige  with 
a  song." 

The  man  had  seen  the  name  of  the  wonder 
ful  English  actress  on  the  bill-boards  in 
front  of  Abbey's  Theatre,  and  he  had  been 
told  that  Miss  Terrell  was  English,  and  con- 


10  CINDERELLA 

fused  the  two  names.  As  he  passed  Van 
Bibber  he  drew  his  waistcoat  into  shape  with 
a  proud  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  said, 
anxiously,  "  I  gave  your  friend  a  good  intro 
duction,  anyway,  did  n't  I  ?  " 

"You  did,  indeed,"  Van  Bibber  answered. 
"  You  could  n't  have  surprised  her  more ;  and 
it  made  a  great  hit  with  me,  too." 

No  one  in  the  room  listened  to  the  singing. 
The  gentlemen  had  crossed  their  legs  com 
fortably  and  were  expressing  their  regret  to 
their  partners  that  so  much  time  was  wasted 
in  sandwiching  songs  between  the  waltzes, 
and  the  ladies  were  engaged  in  criticizing 
Celestine's  hair,  which  she  wore  in  a  bun. 
They  thought  that  it  might  be  English,  but 
it  'certainly  was  not  their  idea  of  good 
style. 

Celestine  was  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
her  husband  and  Lester  were  hanging  far 
over  the  balcony,  holding  their  hands  to 
their  eyes  as  though  they  were  opera-glasses, 
and  exclaiming  with  admiration  and  delight; 
and  when  she  had  finished  the  first  verse, 
they  pretended  to  think  that  the  song  was 
over,  and  shouted,  "Bravo,  encore,"  and 
applauded  frantically,  and  then  apparently 


CINDERELLA  11 

overcome  with  confusion  at  their  mistake, 
sank  back  entirely  from  sight. 

"  I  think  Miss  Terrell 's  an  elegant  singer," 
Van  Bibber's  partner  said  to  him.  "I  seen 
her  at  the  hotel  frequently.  She  has  such 
a  pleasant  way  with  her,  quite  lady-like. 
She  's  the  only  actress  I  ever  saw  that  has 
retained  her  timidity.  She  acts  as  though 
she  were  shy,  don't  she  ?  " 

Van  Bibber,  who  had  spent  a  month  on 
the  Thames  the  summer  before,  with  the 
Grahame  Wests,  surveyed  Cclestine  with 
sudden  interest,  as  though  he  had  never 
seen  her  before  until  that  moment,  and 
agreed  that  she  did  look  shy,  one  might 
almost  say  frightened  to  death.  Mrs.  \Vcst 
rushed  through  the  second  verse  of  the  song, 
bowed  breathlessly,  and  ran  down  the  step's 
of  the  stage  and  back  to  the  refuge  of  the 
balcony,  while  the  audience  applauded  witli 
perfunctory  politeness  and  called  clamorously 
to  the  musicians  to  "  Let  her  go ! " 

"And  that  is  the  song,"  commented  Van 
Bibber,  "that  gets  six  encores  and  three 
calls  every  night  on  Broadway ! " 

Grahame  West  affected  to  be  greatly  cha 
grined  at  his  wife's  failure  to  charm  the 


12  CINDERELLA 

chambermaids  and  porters  with  her  little 
love-song,  and  when  his  turn  came,  he  left 
them  with  alacrity,  assuring  them  that  they 
would  now  see  the  difference,  as  he  would 
sing  a  song  better  suited  to  their  level. 

But  the  song  that  had  charmed  London 
and  captured  the  unprotected  coast  town  of 
New  York,  fell  on  heedless  ears ;  and  except 
the  evil  ones  in  the  gallery,  no  one  laughed 
and  no  one  listened,  and  Lester  declared 
with  tears  in  his  eyes  that  he  would  not  go 
through  such  an  ordeal  for  the  receipts  of  an 
Actors'  Fund  Benefit. 

Van  Bibber's  partner  caught  him  laughing 
at  Grahame  West's  vain  efforts  to  amuse, 
and  said,  tolerantly,  that  Mr.  West  was 
certainly  comical,  but  that  she  had  a  lady 
friend  with  her  who  could  recite  pieces  which 
were  that  comic  that  you  'd  die  of  laughing. 
She  presented  her  friend  to  Van  Bibber,  and 
he  said  he  hoped  that  they  were  going  to 
hear  her  recite,  as  laughing  must  be  a  pleas 
ant  death.  But  the  young  lady  explained 
that  she  had  had  the  misfortune  to  lose  her 
only  brother  that  summer,  and  that  she  had 
given  up  everything  but  dancing  in  conse 
quence.  She  said  she  did  not  think  it  looked 


CINDERELLA  13 

right  to  sec  a  girl  in  mourning  recite  comic 
monologues. 

Van  Bibber  struggled  to  be  sympathetic, 
and  asked  what  her  brother  had  died  of  ? 
She  told  him  that  "he  died  of  a  Thursday," 
and  the  conversation  came  to  an  embarrassing 
pause. 

Van  Bibber's  partner  had  another  friend 
in  a  gray  corduroy  waistcoat  and  tan  shoes, 
who  was  of  Hebraic  appearance.  He  also 
wore  several  very  fine  rings,  and  oiliciated 
with  what  was  certainly  religious  tolerance 
at  the  M.  E.  Bethel  Church.  She  said  he 
was  an  elegant  or  —  gan  —  ist,  putting  the 
emphasis  on  the  second  syllable,  which 
made  Van  Bibber  think  that  she  was  speak 
ing  of  some  religious  body  to  which  he 
belonged.  But  the  organist  made  his  profes 
sion  clear  by  explaining  that  the  committee 
had  just  invited  him  to  oblige  the  company 
with  a  solo  on  the  piano,  but  that  he  had 
been  hitting  the  champagne  so  hard  that  he 
doubted  if  he  could  tell  the  keys  from  the 
pedals,  and  he  added  that  if  they'd  excuse 
him  he  would  go  to  sleep,  which  he  imme 
diately  did  with  his  head  on  the  shoulder  of 
the  lady  recitationist,  who  tactfully  tried  not 
to  notice  that  he  was  there. 


14  CINDERELLA 

They  were  all  waltzing  again,  and  as  Van 
Bibber  guided  his  partner  for  a  second  time 
around  the  room,  he  noticed  a  particularly 
handsome  girl  in  a  walking-dress,  who  was 
doing  some  sort  of  a  fancy  step  with  a 
solemn,  grave-faced  young  man  in  the  hotel 
livery.  They  seemed  by  their  manner  to 
know  each  other  very  well,  and  they  had 
apparently  practised  the  step  that  they  were 
doing  often  before. 

The  girl  was  much  taller  than  the  man, 
and  was  superior  to  him  in  every  way.  Her 
movements  were  freer  and  less  conscious, 
and  she  carried  her  head  and  shoulders  as 
though  she  had  never  bent  them  above  a 
broom.  Her  complexion  was  soft  and  her 
hair  of  the  finest,  deepest  auburn.  Among 
all  the  girls  upon  the  floor  she  was  the  most 
remarkable,  even  if  her  dancing  had  not 
immediately  distinguished  her. 

The  step  which  she  and  her  partner  were 
exhibiting  was  one  that  probably  had  been 
taught  her  by  a  professor  of  dancing  at  some 
East  Side  academy,  at  the  rate  of  fifty  cents 
per  hour,  and  which  she  no  doubt  believed 
was  the  latest  step  danced  in  the  gilded  halls 
of  the  Few  Hundred.  In  this  waltz  the  two 


CINDERELLA  15 

dancers  held  each  other's  hands,  and  the 
man  swung  his  partner  behind  him,  and 
then  would  turn  and  take  up  the  step  with 
her  where  they  had  dropped  it;  or  they 
swung  around  and  around  each  othei*""several 
times,  as  people  do  in  fancy  skating,  and 
sometimes  he  spun  her  so  quickly  one  way 
that  the  skirt  of  her  walking-dress  was  wound 
as  tightly  around  her  legs  and  ankles  as  a 
cord  around  a  top,  and  then  as  he  swung  her 
in  the  opposite  direction,  it  unwound  again, 
and  wrapped  about  her  from  the  other  side. 
They  varied  this  when  it  pleased  them  with 
balancings  and  steps  and  posturings  that 
were  not  sufficiently  extravagant  to  bring  any 
comment  from  the  other  dancers,  but  which 
were  so  full  of  grace  and  feeling  for  time  and 
rhythm,  that  Van  Bibber  continually  reversed 
his  partner  so  that  he  might  not  for  an  instant 
lose  sight  of  the  girl  with  auburn  hair.^  ^-T 

"She   is   a   very  remarkable  dancer, f  he      n 
said  at  last,  apologetically)     "Do  you  know 
who  she  is  ?  "  *  -^  ^ 

I    His  partner  had  observed  his  interest  with 
(increasing  disapproval,  and  she  smiled  tri 
umphantly  now  at  the  chance  that  his  ques 
tion  gave  her.         f 


16  CINDERELLA 

"She  is^the  seventh  floor  chambermaid," 
she  said.  (  "I,"  she  added  in  a  tone  which 
marked  the  social  superiority,  "  am  a  checker 
and  marker.") 

f6  Really  ?  "  said  Van  Bibber,  with  a  polite 
accent  of  proper  awe. 

He  decided  that  he  must  see  more  of  this 
Cinderella  of  the  Hotel  Salisbury;  and  drop 
ping  his  partner  by  the  side  of  the  lady 
recitationist,  he  bowed  his  thanks  and  hurried 
to  the  gallery  for  a  better  view. 

When  he  reached  it  he  found  his  profes 
sional  friends  hanging  over  the  railing, 
watching  every  movement  which  the  girl 
made  with  an  intense  and  unaffected  interest. 
V"Have  you  noticed  that  girl  with  red 
hair?;'  he  asked,  as  he  pulled  up  a  chair 
beside  them. 

But  they  only  nodded  and  kept  their  eyes 
fastened  on  the  opening  in  the  crowd  through 
which  she  had  disappeared,  j 

"There  she  is,"  Grahame  West  cried 
excitedly,  as  the  girl  swept  out  from  the 
mass  of  dancers  into  the  clear  space.  "  Now 
you  can  see  what  I  mean,  Celestine,"  he 
said.  "  Where  he  turns  her  like  that.  We 
could  do  it  in  the  shadow-dance  in  the  second 


CINDERELLA  17 

act.  f  It 's  very  pretty.  She  lets  go  his  right 
hand  and  then  he  swings  her  and  balances 
backward  until  she  takes  up  the  step  again, 
when  she  faces  him.  It  is  very  simple  and 
very  elective.  Is  n't  it,  George  ?  " 

Lester  nodded  and  said.  ("Yes,  ,very. 
She  's  a  born  dancer.  I  You  can  teach  people 
steps,  but  you  can  t  teach  them  to  be 
graceful. " 

"She  reminds  me  of  Sylvia  Grey,"  said 
Miss  Chamberlain.  "  There  's  nothing  violent 
about  it,  or  faked,  is  there  ?  It 's  just  the 
poetry  of  motion,  without  any  tricks." 
/  Lester,  who  was  a  trick  dancer  himself, 
and  Grahame  West,  who  was  one  of  the  best 
eccentric  dancers  in  England,  assented  to 
this  cheerfully. 

(  Van  Bibber  listened  to  the  comments  of 
the  authorities  and  smiled  grimly.  The  con 
trast  which  their  lives  presented  to  that  of 
the  young  girl  whom  they  praised  so  highly, 
struck  him  as  being  most  interesting.  Here 
were  two  men  who  had  made  comic  dances 
a  profound  and  serious  study,  and  the  two 
women  who  had  lifted  dancing  to  the  plane 
of  a  fine  art,  all  envying  and  complimenting 
a  girl  who  was  doing  for  her  own  pleasure 


18  CINDERELLA 

that  which  was  to  them  hard  work  and  a 
livelihood.  But  while  they  were  going  back 
the  next  day  to  be  applauded  and  petted  and 
praised  by  a  friendly  public,  she  was  to  fly 
like  Cinderella,  to  take  up  her  sweeping  and 
dusting  and  the  making  of  beds,  and  the 
answering  of  peremptory  summonses  from 
electric  buttons.  / 

"  A  good  teacher  could  make  her  worth  one 
hundred  dollars  a  week  in  six  lessons,"  said 
Lester,  dispassionately.  "I'd  be  willing  to 
make  her  an  offer  myself,  if  I  had  n't  too 
many  dancers  in  the  piece  already."  D^^ 

"  A  hundred  dollars  —  that 's  twenty1 
pounds,"  said  Mrs.  Grahame  West.  "You 
do  pay  such  prices  over  here !  But  I  quite 
agree  that  she  is  very  graceful ;  and  she  is 
so  unconscious,  too,  is  n't  she  ? " 

The  interest  in  Cinderella  ceased  when  the 
waltzing  stopped,  and  the  attention  of  those 
in  the  gallery  was  riveted  with  equal  intensity 
upon  Miss  Chamberlain  and  Travers  who 
had  faced  each  other  in  a  quadrille,  Miss 
Chamberlain  having  accepted  the  assistant 
barkeeper  for  a  partner,  while  Travers  con 
tented  himself  with  a  tall,  elderly  female, 
who  in  business  hours  had  entire  charge  of 


CINDERELLA  19 

the  linen  department.  The  barkeeper  was 
a  melancholy  man  with  a  dyed  mustache,  and 
when  he  asked  the  English  dancer  from  what 
hotel  she  came,  and  she,  thinking  he  meant 
at  what  hotel  was  she  stopping,  told  him,  he 
said  that  that  was  a  slow  place,  and  that  if 
she  would  let  him  know  when  she  had  her 
night  off,  he  would  be  pleased  1o  meet  her  at 
the  Twenty-third  station  of  the  Sixth  Avenue 
road  on  the  uptown  side,  and  would  take  her 
to  the  theatre,  for  which,  he  explained,  he 
was  able  to  obtain  tickets  for  nothing,  as  so 
many  men  gave  him  their  return  checks  for 
drinks. 

Miss  Chamberlain  told  him  in  return,  that 
she  just  doted  on  the  theatre,  and  promised 
to  meet  him  the  very  next  evening.  She 
sent  him  anonymously  instead  two  scats  in 
the  front  row  for  her  performance.  She  had 
much  delight  the  next  night  in  watching  his 
countenance  when,  after  arriving  somewhat 
late  and  cross,  he  recognized  the  radiant 
beauty  on  the  stage  as  the  young  person  with 
whom  he  had  condescended  to  dance. 

When  the  quadrille  was  over  she  intro 
duced  him  to  Travers,  and  Travers  told  him 
he  mixed  drinks  at  the  Knickerbocker  Club, 


20  CINDERELLA 

and  that  his  greatest  work  was  a  Yan  Bibber 
cocktail.  And  when  the  barkeeper  asked 
for  the  recipe  and  promised  to  "push  it 
along,"  Travers  told  him  he  never  made  it 
twice  the  same,  as  it  depended  entirely  on 
his  mood. 

Mrs.  Grahame  West  and  Lester  were  scan 
dalized  at  the  conduct  of  these  two  yourg 
people  and  ordered  the  party  home,  and 
as  the  dance  was  growing  somewhat  noisy 
and  the  gentlemen  were  smoking  as  they 
danced,  the  invited  guests  made  their  bows 
to  Mr.  Paul' and  went  out  into  cold,  silent 
streets,  followed  by  the  thanks  and  compli 
ments  of  seven  bare-headed  and  swaying 
committee-men. 

The  next  week  Lester  went  on  the  road 
with  his  comic  opera  company;  the  Grahame 
Wests  sailed  to  England,  Lctty  Chamberlain 
and  the  other  "Gee  Gees,"  as  Travers  called 
the  Gayety  Girls,  departed  for  Chicago,  and . 
Travers  and  Van  Bibber  were  left  alone] 

The  annual  ball  was  a  month  in  the  past, 
when  Van  Bibber  found  Travers  at  breakfast 
at  their  club,  and  droppedTnto  a  chair  beside 
him  with  a  sigh  of  weariness  and  indecision. 


CINDERELLA  21 

"  What 's  the  trouble  ?  Have  some  break 
fast  ? "  said  Travers,  cheerfully. 

u  Thank  you,  no,"  said  Van  JJibber,  gazing 
at  his  friend  doubtfully  ;  r  I  want  to  ask  yon 
what  you  think  of  this.  )  Do  you  remember 
that  girl  at  that  servant/  ball  ?  " 

"Which  girl  ?  — Tall  girl  with  red  hair  — 
did  fancy  dance  ?  Yes  —  why  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  've  been  thinking  about  her 
lately,"  said  Van  Bibber,  "and  what  they 
said  of  her  dancing.  It  seems  to  me  that  if 
it 's  as  good  as  they  thought  it  was,  the  girl 
ought  to  be  told  of  it  and  encouraged.  They 
evidently  meant  what  they  said.  |  It  was  n't 
as  though  they  were  talking  about  her  to  her 
relatives  and  had  to  say  something  pleasant. 
Lester  thought  she  could  make  a  hundred 
dollars  a  week  if  she  had  had  six  lessons. 
Well,  six  lessons  would  n't  cost  much,  not 
more  than  ten  dollars  at  the  most,  and  a 
hundred  a  week  for  an  original  outlay  of  ten 
is  a  good  investment." 

Travers  nodded  his  head  in  assent,  and 
whacked  an  egg  viciously  with  his  spoon. 
"  What 's  your  scheme  ?  "  he  said.  "  Is  your 
idea  to  help  the  lady  for  her  o\vn  sake  — 
sort  of  a  philanthropic  snap  —  or  as  a  specu- 


22  CINDERELLA 

lation  ?  We  might  make  it  pay  as  a  specu 
lation.  You  see  nobody  knows  about  her 
except  you  and  me.  We  might  form  her 
into  a  sort  of  stock  company  and  teach  her  to 
dance,  and  secure  her  engagements  and  then 
take  our  commission  out  of  her  salary.  Is 
that  what  you  were  thinking  of  doing  ?  " 

"No,  that  was  not  my  idea,"  said  Van 
Bibber,  smiling-/  *1  hadn't  any  plan.  I 
just  thought  L*a  go  down  to  that  hotel  and 
tell  her  that  in  the  opinion  of  the  four  people 
best  qualified  to  know  what  good  dancing  is, 
she  is  a  good  dancer,  and  then  leave  the  rest 
to  her.  I  She  must  have  some  friends  or  rela 
tions  who  would  help  her  to  take  a  start. 
If  it 's  true  that  she  can  make  a  hit  as  a 
dancer,  it  seems  a  pity.that  she  shouldn't 
know  it,  does  n't  it  ?  If  she  succeeded,  she  'd 
make  a  pot  of  money,  and  if  she  failed  she  'd 
be  just  where  she  is  now. " 

Travers  considered  this  subject  deeply, 
with  knit,  brows.  /  s 

\  "That 's  so,"  he  said./  «I  '11  tell  you  what 
let 's  do.  Let 's  go  see  some  of  the  managers 
of  those  continuous  performance  places,  and 
tell  them  we  have  a  dark  horse  that  the 
Grahame  Wests  and  Letty  Chamberlain 


CINDERELLA  23 

herself  and  George  Lester  think  is  the  com 
ing  dancer  of  the  age,  and  ask  them  to  give 
her  a  chairce;  And  we  '11  make  some  sort  of 
a  contract  with  then:.  I  We  ought  to  fix  it 
so  that  she  is  to  get  bigger  money  the  longer 
they  keep  her  in  the  bill,  have  her  salary  on 
a  rising  scale.  Come  on,"  he  exclaimed, 
warming  to  the  idea.  "Let's  go  now. 
What  have  you  got  to  do  ?  " 

"I  've  got  nothing  better  to  do  than  just 
that,"  Van  Bibber  declared,  briskly. 

The  managers  whom  they  interviewed  were 
interested  but  non-committal.  \  They  agreed 
that  the  girl  must  be  a  remarkable  dancer 
indeed  to  warrant  such  praise  from  such 
authorities,  but  they  wanted  to  see  her  and 
judge  for  themselves,  and  they  asked  to  be 
given  her  address,  which  the  impresarios 
refused  to  disclose.  But  they  secured  from 
the  managers  the  names  of  several  men  who 
taught  fancy  dancing,  and  who  prepared 
aspirants  for  the  vaudeville  stage,  and  hav 
ing  obtained  from  them  their  prices  and 
their  opinion  as  to  how  long  a  time  would  be 
required  ta  give  the  finishing  touches  to  a 
dancer  already  accomplished  in  the  art,  they 
directed  their  steps  to  the  Hotel  Salisbury. 


24  CINDERELLA 

"'  From  the  Seventh  Story  to  the  Stage,'  " 
said   Travers.     "  She  will  make  very  good 
newspaper    paragraphs,    won't    she?  /'The 
New  American  Dancer,  endorsed  by  Celestine 
Terrell,  Letty  Chamberlain,   and    Cortlandt 
Van  Bibber. '     And  we  could  get  her  outside 
engagements  to  dance  at  studios  and  even 
ing  parties  after  her   regular   performance, 
could  n't  we  ?  "  he  continued.     "  She  ought 
to   ask   from   fifty   to    a  hundred    dollars   a 
night.     With  her  regular  salary  that  would 
average   about    three    hundred   and   fifty   a 
week.     She  is  probably  making  three  dollars 
a  week  now,  and  eats  in  the  servants'  hall." 
/"And    then    we   will   send   her   abroad, 'J 
interrupted  Van  Bibber,  taking  up  the  tale, 
"and  she  will  do  the  music  halls  in  London. 
If  she  plays  three  halls  a  night,  say  one  on 
the  Surrey  Side,  and  Islington,  and  a  smart 
West    End    hall    likek  the    Empire   or  the 
Alhambra,    at   fifteen  guineas    a  turn,   that 
would  bring  her  in  five  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  week.     And  then  she  would  go 
to  the  Folies  Berg^re  in  Paris,   and  finally 
to   Petersburg   and   Milan,    and   then    come 
back  to  dance  in  the   Grand  Opera  season, 
under  Gus  Harris,  with  a  great  international 


CINDERELLA  25 

reputation,  and  hung  with  flowers  and 
medals  and  diamond  sun-bursts  and  things." 

" Rather,"  said  Truvers,  shaking  his  head 
enthusiastically.  "And  after  that  we  must 
invent  a  new  dance  for  her,  with  colored 
lights  and  mechanical  snaps  and  things,  and 
have  it  patented ;  and  finally  she  will  get 
her  picture  on  soda-cracker  boxes  and  ciga 
rette  advertisements,  and  have  a  race-horse 
named  after  her,  and  give  testimonials  for 
nerve  tonics  and  soap.  Does  fame  reach 
farther  than  that  ?  " 

"I  think  not,  "  said  Van  Bibber,  "unless 
they  give  her  name  to  a  new  make  of  bicycle. 
We  must  give  her  a  new  name,  anyway,  and 
rechristen  her,  whatever  her  name  may  be. 
/We  '11  call  her  Cinderella  —  La  Cinder 
ella.  ^Iliat  sounds  fine,  does  n't  it,  even 
if  it  is  rather  long  for  the  very  largest 
type." 

"It  is  n't  much  longer  than  Carmencita," 
suggested  the  other.  "  And  people  who  have 
the  proud  knowledge  of  knowing  her  like 
you  and  me  will  call  her  '  Cinders  '  for 
short.  And  when  we  rend  of  her  dancing 
before  the  Czar  of  All  the  Russias,  and  lead 
ing  the  ballet  at  the  Grand  Opera  House  in 


26  CINDERELLA 

Paris,  we'll  say,  '  that  is  our  handiwork,' 
and  we  will  feel  that  we  have  not  lived  in 


"Seventh  floor,  please,"  said  Van  Bibber 
to  the  elevator  boy. 

The  elevator  boy  was  a  young  man  of 
serious  demeanor,  with  a  smooth-shaven  face 
and  a  square,  determined  jaw.  There  was 
something  about  him  which  seemed  familiar, 
but  Van  Bibber  could  not  determine  just 
what  it  was.  The  elevator  stopped  to  allow 
some  people  to  leave  it  at  the  second  floor, 
and  as  the  young  man  shoved  the  door  to 
again,  Van  Bibber  asked  him  if  he  happened 
to  know  of  a  chambermaid  with  red  hair,  a 
tall  girl  on  the  seventh  floor,  a  girl  who 
danced  very  well. 

The  wire  rope  of  the  elevator  slipped  less 
rapidly  through  the  hands  of  the  young  man 
who  controlled  it,  and  he  turned  and  fixed 
his  eyes  with  sudden  interest  on  Van 
Bibber's  face,  and  scrutinized  him  and  his 
companion  with  serious  consideration. 

"  Yes,  I  know  her  —  I  know  who  you  mean, 
anyway, "  he  said.  "  Why  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  echoed  Van  Bibber,  raising  his 


CINDERELLA  27 

eyes.  "We  wish  to  see  her  on  a  matter  of 
business.  Can  you  tell  me  her  name  ?  " 

The  elevator  was  running  so  slowly  now 
that  its  movement  upward  was  barely  per 
ceptible. 

"Her  name's  Annie  —  Annie  Crehan. 
Excuse  me,"  said  the  young  man,  doubtfully, 
"ain't  you  the  young  fellows  who  came  to 
our  ball  with  that  English  lady,  the  one  that 


sung  ? 


"Yes,"  Van  Bibber  assented,  pleasantly. 
"We  were  there.  That 's  where  I've  seen 
you  before.  You  were  there  too,  were  n't 
you  ? " 

"  Me  and  Annie  was  dancing  together  most 
all  the  evening.  I  seen  all  youse  watching 
her." 

"Of  course,"  exclaimed  Van  Bibber.  "I 
remember  you  now.  Oh,  then  you  must 
know  her  quite  well.  Maybe  you  can  help 
us.  We  want  to  put  her  on  the  stage." 

The  elevator  came  to  a  stop  with  an  abrupt 
jerk,  and  the  young  man  shoved  his  hands 
behind  him,  and  leaned  back  against  one  of 
the  mirrors  in  its  side./ 

"  On  the  stage, "  he  repeated.     "  Why  ?  " 
f  Van  Bibber  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoul- 


ii, 

( 


28  CINDERELLA 

ders  in  some  embarrassment  at  this  peremp 
tory  challenge.  But  there  was  nothing  in  the 
young  man's  tone  or  manner  that  could  give 
offence.  He  seemed  much  in  earnest,  and 
spoke  as  though  they  must  understand  that 
he  had  some  right  to  question.  ) 

u  Why  ?  Because  of  her  dancing.  She  is 
a  very  remarkable  dancer.  All  of  those 
actors  with  us  that  night  said  so.  \  You  must 
know  that  yourself  better  than  any  one  else, 
since  you  can  dance  with  her.  I  She  could 
make  quite  a  fortune  as  a  dancer,  and  we 
have  persuaded  several  managers  to  promise 
to  give  her  a  trial.  I  (And  if  she  needs  money 
to  pay  for  lessons,  or  to  buy  the  proper 
dresses  and  slippers  and  things,  we  are  will 
ing  to  give  it  to  her,  or  to  lend  it  to  her,  if 
she  would  like  that  better. " 
v  "  Why  ?  "  repeated  the  young  man,  immov 
ably.  His  manner  was  not  encouraging. 

"  Why  —  what  ?  "  interrupted  Travers, 
with  growing  impatience. 

f  Why  are  you  willing  to  give  her  money  ? 
You  don't  know  her." 

Van  Bibber  looked  at  Travers,  and  Travers 
smiled  in  some  annoyance.  The  electric 
bell  rang  violently  from  different  floors,  but 


CINDERELLA  29 

the  young  man  did  not  heed  it.  Pie  had 
halted  the  elevator  hetween  two  landings, 
and  he  now  seated  himself  on  the  velvet 
cushions  and  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other, 
as  though  for  a  protracted  debate.  Travers 
gazed  about  him  in  humorous  apprehension, 
as  though  alarmed  at  the  position  in  which 
he  found  himself,  hung  as  it  were  between 
the  earth  and  sky. 

"I  swear  I  am  an  unarmed  man,"  he  said, 
in  a  whisperJ 

"Our  intentions  are  well  meant,  I  assure 
you,"  said  Van  Bibber,  with  an  amused 
smile.  "The  girl  is  working  ten  hours  a 
day  for  very  little  money,  isn't  she  ?l  You 
know  she  is,  when  she  could  make  a  groat 
deal  of  money  by  working  half  as  hard.  /  We 
have  some  influence  with  theatrical  people, 
and  we  meant  merely  to  put  her  in  the  way 
of  bettering  her  position,] and  to  give  her  the 
chance  to  do  something  which  she  can  do 
better  than  many  others,  while  almost  any 
one,  I  take  it,  can  sweep  and  make  beds.  If 
she  were  properly  managed,  she  could  become 
a  great  dancer,  and  delight  thousands  of 
people  __  a,ld  to  the  gayety  of  nations,  as  it 
were.  She  's  hardly  doing  tbat  now,  is  she  ? 


30  CINDERELLA 

Have  you  any  objections  to  that)?  What  right 
have  you  to  make  objections,  anyway  ?  " 

The  young  man  regarded  the  two  young 
gentlemen  before  him  with  a  dogged  counte 
nance,  but  there  was  now  in  his  eyes  a  look 
of  helplessness  and  of  great  disquietude. 

"  We  're  engaged  to  be  married,  Annie  and 
me,"  he  said.  "That's  it." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Van  Bibber,  "I  beg  your 
pardon.  That 's  different.  Well,  in  that 
case,  you  can  help  us  very  much,  if  you 
wish.  We  leave  it  entirely  with  you  !  " 

"I  don't  want  that  you  should  leave  it 
with  me,"  said  the  young  man,  harshly. 
"I  don't  want  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
Annie  can  speak  for  herself.  I  knew  it  was 
coming  to  this,"  he  said,  leaning  forward 
and  clasping  his  hands  together,  "  or  some 
thing  like  this.  I  've  never  felt  dead  sure  of 
Annie,  never  once.  I  always  knew  some 
thing  would  happen." 

"Why,  nothing  has  happened,"  said  Van 
Bibber,  soothingly.  "  You  would  both  bene 
fit  by  it.  We  would  be  as  willing  to  help 
two  as  one.  You  would  both  be  better  off. " 

The  young  man  raised  his  head  and  stared 
t  Van  Bibber  reprovingly. 


CINDERELLA  31 

"You  know  better  than  that,"  he  said. 
"You  know  what  I  'd  look  like.  Of  course 
she  could  make  money  as  a  dancer,  I  've 
known  that  for  some  time,  but  she  has  n't 
thought  of  it  yet,  and  she  'd  never  have 
thought  of  it  herself.  But  the  question 
is  n't  me  or  what  I  want.  It 's  Annie.  Is 
she  going  to  be  happier  or  not,  that 's  the 
question.  And  I  'm  telling  you  that  she 
could  n't  be  any  happier  than  she  is  now.  I 
know  that,  too.  We  're  just  as  contented  as 
two  folks  ever  was.  We  've  been  saving  for 
three  months,  and  buying  furniture  from  the 
instalment  people,  and  next  month  we  were 
going  to  move  into  a  flat  on  Seventh  Avenue, 
quite  handy  to  the  hotel.  If  she  goes  onto 
the  stage  could  she  be  any  happier  ?  And  if 
you  're  honest  in  saying  you  're  thinking  of 
the  two  of  us  —  I  ask  you  where  would  I 
corne  in  ?  I  '11  be  pulling  this  wire  rope  and 
she  '11  be  all  over  the  country,  and  her 
friends  won't  be  my  friends  and  her  ways 
won't  be  my  ways.  She  '11  get  out  of  reach 
of  me  in  a  week,  and  I  won't  be  in  it.  I  'm 
not  the  sort  to  go  loafing  round  while  my 
wife  supports  me,  carrying  her  satchel  for 
her.  And  there  's  nothing  I  can  do  but  just 


32  CINDERELLA 

this.  She  'd  come  back  here  some  day  and 
live  in  the  front  floor  suite,  and  1  'd  pull  her 
up  and  down  in  this  elevator.  That 's  what 
will  happen.  Here  's  what  you  two  gentle 
men  are  doing."  The  young  man  leaned 
forward  eagerly.  "You  're  offering  a  change 
to  two  people  that  are  as  well  off  now  as 
they  ever  hope  to  be,  and  they  're  contented. 
We  don't  know  nothin'  better.  Now,  are 
you  dead  sure  that  you  're  giving  us  some 
thing  better  than  what  we  've  got  ?  You 
can't  make  me  any  happier  than  I  am,  and 
as  far  as  Annie  knows,  up  to  now,  she 
couldn't  be  better  fixed,  and  no  one  could 
care  for  her  more.J 

"My  God!  gentlemen,"  he  cried,  desper 
ately,  "  think  !  She  's  all  I  've  got.  There  's 
lots  of  dancers,  but  she  's  not  a  dancer  to 
me,  she  's  just  Annie.  I  don't  want  her  to 
delight  the  gayety  of  nations.  I  want  her  for 
myself.  Maybe  I  'm  selfish,  but  I  can't  help 
that.  She  's  mine,  and  you  're  trying  to  take 
her  away  from  meJ  Suppose  she  was  your 
girl,  and  some  one  was  sneaking  her  away 
from  you.  You  'd  try  to  stop  it,  would  n't 
you,  if  she  was  all  you  had  ?  "  He  stopped 
breathlessly  and  stared  alternately  from  one 


CINDERELLA  33 

to  the  other  of  the  young  men  before  him. 
Their  countenances  showed  an  expression  of 
well-bred  concern. 

'  "It 's  for  you  to  judge,"  he  went  on,  help 
lessly  ;  "  if  you  want  to  take  the  responsi 
bility,  well  and  good,  that 's  for  you  to  say. 
I  'm  not  stopping  you,  but  she 's  all  I  've  got. " 

The  young  man  stopped,  and  there  was  a 
pause  while  he  eyed  them  eagerly.  The 
elevator  bell  rang  out  again  with  vicious 
indignation. 

Travers  struck  at  the  toe  of  his  boot  with 
his  stick  and  straightened  his  shoulders. 

"  I  think  you  're  extremely  selfish,  if  you 
ask  me,"  he  said.  ">*-t  )r~ry  " 

The  young  man  stood  up  quickly  anfi  took 
his  elevator  rope  in  both  hands.  "All 
right,"  he  said,  quietly,  "that  settles  it. 
I  '11  take  you  up  to  Annie  now,  and  you  can 
arrange  it  with  her.  I  'm  not  standing  in 
her  way." 

"Hold  on,"  protested  Van  Bibber  and 
Travers  in  a  breath.  "Don't  be  in  such  a 
hurry,"  growled  Travers. 

The  young  man  stood  immovable,  with  his 
ands   on   the   wire   and    looking   down    on 
them,  his  face  full  of  doubt  and  distress.  \ 

3 


34  CINDERELLA 

"I  don't  want  to  stand  in  Annie's  way," 
he  repeated,  as  though'to  himself.  "I  '11  do 
whatever  you  say.  1  '11  take  you  to  the 
seventh  floor  or  I  '11  drop  you  to  the  street. 
It 's  up  to  you,  gentlemen,"  he  added,  help 
lessly,  and  turning  his  back  to  them  threw 
his  arm  against  the  wall  of  the  elevator  and 
buried  his  face  upon  it. 

There  was  an  embarrassing  pause,  I  during 
which  Van  Bibber  scowled  at  himseli  in  the 
mirror  opposite  as  though  to  ask  it  what  a 
man  who  looked  like  that  should  do  under 
such  trying  circumstances.  |  j^  K*rt*i 

He  turngd  at  last  and  stared  at  Travers. 
"'  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  it's  folly  to  be 
wise, '  "  he  whispered,  keeping  his  face 
toward  his  friend.  ^"  What  do  you  say  ? 
Personally  I  don't  see  myself  in  the  part  of 
Providence.!  It 's  the  case  of  the  poor  man 
and  his  one  ewe  lamb,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

("  We  don't  want  his  ewe  lamb,  do  we  ?  " 
growled  Travers.  "  It 's  a  case  of  the  dog  in 
a  manger,  I  say.)  I  thought  we  were  going 
to  be  fairy  godfathers  to  '  La  Cinderella. '  : 

"The  lady  seems  to  be  supplied  with  a 
most  determined  godfather  as  it  is, "  returned 
Van  Bibber. 


CINDERELLA 


The  elevator  boy  raised  his  face  and  stared 
at  them  with  haggard  eyes. 

"Well?"  he  begged. 

/   Van  Bibber  smiled  upon  him  reassuringly, 
with  a  look  partly  of  respect  and  parity  of 


"You  can  drop  us  to  the  street,"  he  said. 


MISS  DELAMAR'S  UNDERSTUDY 

A  YOUNG  man  runs  two  chances  of  marry 
ing  the  wrong  woman.  He  marries  her 
because  she  is  beautiful,  and  because  he  per 
suades  himself  that  every  other  lovable 
attribute  must  be  associated  with  such 
beauty,  or  because  she  is  in  love  with  him. 
If  this  latter  is  the  case,  she  gives  certain 
values  to  what  he  thinks  and  to  what  he 
says  which  no  other  woman  gives,  and  so  he 
observes  to  himself,  "This  is  the  woman 
who  best  understands  me." 

You  can  reverse  this  and  say  that  young 
women  run  the  same  risks,  but  as  men  are 
seldom  beautiful,  the  first  danger  is  elimi 
nated.  Women  still  marry  men,  however, 
because  they  are  loved  by  them,  and  in  time 
the  woman  grows  to  depend  upon  this  love 
and  to  need  it,  and  is  not  content  without  it, 
and  so  she  consents  to  marry  the  man  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  he  cares  for  her. 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY       37 

For  if  a  dog,  even,  runs  up  to  you  wagging 
his  tail  and  acting  as  though  he  were  glad  to 
see  you,  you  pat  him  on  the  head  and  say, 
"What  a  nice  dog."  You  like  him  because 
he  likes  you,  and  not  because  he  belongs  to 
a  fine  breed  of  animal  and  could  take  blue 
ribbons  at  bench  shows. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  young  man  who  was 
in  love  with  a  beautiful  woman,  and  who 
allowed  her  beauty  to  compensate  him  for 
many  other  things.  When  she  failed  to 
understand  what  he  said  to  her  he  smiled 
and  looked  at  her  and  forgave  her  at  once, 
and  when  she  began  to  grow  uninteresting, 
he  would  take  up  his  hat  and  go  away,  and 
so  he  never  knew  how  very  uninteresting  she 
might  possibly  be  if  she  were  given  time 
enough  in  which  to  demonstrate  the  fact. 
He  never  considered  that,  were  he  married 
to  her,  he  could  not  take  up  his  hat  and  go 
away  when  she  became  uninteresting,  and 
that  her  remarks,  which  were  not  brilliant, 
could  not  be  smiled  away  either.  They 
would  rise  up  and  greet  him  every  morning, 
and  would  be  the  last  thing  he  would  hear  at 
night. 

Miss  Delamar's  beauty  was  so  conspicuous 


38        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

that  to  pretend  not  to  notice  it  was  more 
foolish  than  well-bred.  You  got  along  more 
easily  and  simply  by  accepting  it  at  once, 
and  referring  to  it,  and  enjoying  its  effect 
upon  other  people.  To  go  out  of  one's  way 
to  talk  of  other  things  when  every  one,  even 
Miss  Delamar  herself,  knew  what  must  be 
uppermost  in  your  mind,  always  seemed  as 
absurd  as  to  strain  a  point  in  politeness,  and 
to  pretend  not  to  notice  that  a  guest  had 
upset  his  claret,  or  any  other  embarrassing 
fact.  For  Miss  Delamar's  beauty  was  so 
distinctly  embarrassing  that  this  was  the 
only  way  to  meet  it,  —  to  smile  and  pass  it 
over  and  to  try,  if  possible,  to  get  on  to 
something  else.  It  was  on  account  of  this 
extraordinary  quality  in  her  appearance  that 
every  one  considered  her  beauty  as  some 
thing  which  transcended  her  private  owner 
ship,  and  which  belonged  by  right  to  the 
polite  world  at  large,  to  any  one  who  could 
appreciate  it  properly,  just  as  though  it  were 
a  sunset  or  a  great  work  of  art  or  of  nature. 
And  so,  when  she  gave  away  her  photographs 
no  one  thought  it  meant  anything  more 
serious  than  a  recognition  on  her  part  of  the 
fact  that  it  would  have  been  unkind  and 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        39 

selfish  in  her  not  to  have  shared  the  enjoy 
ment  of  so  much  loveliness  with  others. 

Consequently,  when  she  sent  one  of  her 
largest  and  most  aggravatingly  beautiful 
photographs  to  young  Stuart,  it  was  no  sign 
that  she  cared  especially  for  him. 

How  much  young  Stuart  cared  fof  Miss 
Dclamar,  however,  was  an  open  question, 
and  a  condition  yet  to  be  discovered.  That 
he  cared  for  some  one,  and  cared  so  much 
that  his  imagination  had  begun  to  picture 
the  awful  joys  and  responsibilities  of  mar 
riage,  was  only  too  well  known  to  himself, 
and  was  a  state  of  mind  already  suspected 
by  his  friends. 

Stuart  was  a  member  of  the  New  York 
bar,  and  the  distinguished  law  firm  to  which 
he  belonged  was  very  proud  of  its  junior 
member,  and  treated  him  with  indulgence 
and  affection,  which  was  not  unmixed  with 
amusement.  For  Stuart's  legal  knowledge 
had  been  gathered  in  many  odd  corners  of 
the  globe,  and  was  various  and  peculiar.  It 
had  been  his  pleasure  to  study  the  laws  by 
which  men  ruled  other  men  in  every  condi 
tion  of  life,  and  under  every  sun.  The  regu 
lations  of  a  new  mining  camp  were  fraught 


40        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

with  as  great  interest  to  him  as  the  accumu 
lated  precedents  of  the  English  Constitution, 
and  he  had  investigated  the  rulings  of  the 
mixed  courts  of  Egypt  and  of  the  government 
of  the  little  Dutch  republic  near  the  Cape 
with  as  keen  an  effort  to  comprehend,  as  he 
had  shown  in  studying  the  laws  of  the 
American  colonies  and  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts. 

But  he  was  not  always  serious,  and  it 
sometimes  happened  that  after  he  had  arrived 
at  some  queer  little  island  where  the  native 
prince  and  the  English  governor  sat  in  judg 
ment  together,  his  interest  in  the  intricacies 
of  their  laws  would  give  way  to  the  more 
absorbing  occupation  of  chasing  wild  boar  or 
shooting  at  tigers  from  the  top  of  an  ele 
phant.  And  so  he  was  not  only  regarded  as 
an  authority  on  many  forms  of  government 
and  of  law,  into  which  no  one  else  had  ever 
taken  the  trouble  to  look,  but  his  books  on 
big  game  were  eagerly  read  and  his  articles 
in  the  magazines  were  earnestly  discussed, 
whether  they  told  of  the  divorce  laws  of 
Dakota,  and  the  legal  rights  of  widows  in 
Cambodia,  or  the  habits  of  the  Mexican 
lion. 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        41 

Stuart  loved  his  work  better  than  he  knew, 
but  how  well  he  loved  Miss  Delamar  neither 
he  nor  his  friends  could  tell.  She  was  the 
most  beautiful  and  lovely  creature  that  he 
had  ever  seen,  and  of  that  only  was  he 
certain. 

Stuart  was  sitting  in  the  club  ont)  day 
when  the  conversation  turned  to  matrimony. 
He  was  among  his  own  particular  friends, 
the  men  before  whom  he  could  speak  seriously 
or  foolishly  without  fear  of  being  misunder 
stood  or  of  having  what  he  said  retold  and 
spoiled  in  the  telling.  There  was  Seldon, 
the  actor,  and  Rives  who  painted  pictures, 
and  young  Sloane,  who  travelled  for  pleasure 
and  adventure,  and  Weiraer  who  stayed  at 
home  and  wrote  for  the  reviews.  They  were 
all  bachelors,  and  very  good  friends,  and 
jealously  guarded  their  little  circle  from  the 
intrusion  of  either  men  or  women. 

"Of  course  the  chief  objection  to  mar 
riage,"  Stuart  said  —  it  was  the  very  day  in 
which  the  picture  had  been  sent  to  his  rooms 
—  "  is  the  old  one  that  you  can't  tell  any 
thing  about  it  until  you  are  committed  to  it 
forever.  It  is  a  very  silly  thing  to  discuss 
even,  because  there  is  no  way  of  bringing  it 


42        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

about,  but  there  really  should  be  some  sort 
of  a  preliminary  trial.  As  the  man  says  in 
the  play,  '  you  wouldn't  buy  a  watch  with 
out  testing  it  first.'  You  don't  buy  a  hat 
even  without  putting  it  on,  and  finding  out 
whether  it  is  becoming  or  not,  or  whether 
your  peculiar  style  of  ugliness  can  stand  it. 
And  yet  men  go  gayly  off  and  get  married, 
and  make  the  most  awful  promises,  and  alter 
their  whole  order  of  life  and  risk  the  happi 
ness  of  some  lovely  creature  on  trust,  as  it 
were,  knowing  absolutely  nothing  of  the  new 
conditions  and  responsibilities  of  the  life 
before  them.  Even  a  river  pilot  has  to  serve 
an  apprenticeship  before  he  gets  a  license, 
arid  yet  we  are  allowed  to  take  just  as  great 
risks,  and  only  because  we  want  to  take 
them.  It 's  awful,  and  it 's  all  wrong. " 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what  one  is  going  to 
do  about  it,"  commented  young  Sloane, 
lightly,  "  except  to  get  divorced.  That  road 
is  alwa}7s  open." 

Sloane  was  starting  the  next  morning  for 
the  Somali  Country,  in  Abyssinia,  to  shoot 
rhinoceros,  and  his  interest  in  matrimony 
was  in  consequence  somewhat  slight. 

"It  isn't  the  fear  of  the  responsibilities 


MISS  DELAMAKS   UNDERSTUDY        43 

that  keeps  Stuart,  nor  any  one  of  us  back," 
said  Weimer,  contemptuously.  "  It 's  be 
cause  we  're  selfish.  That 's  the  whole  truth 
of  the  matter.  We  love  our  work,  or  our 
pleasure,  or  to  knock  about  the  world,  better 
than  we  do  any  particular  woman.  When 
one  of  us  comes  to  love  the  woman  best,  his 
conscience  won't  trouble  him  long  about  the 
responsibilities  of  marrying  her." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Stuart,  "I  am  quite 
sincere;  I  maintain  that  there  should  be  a 
preliminary  stage.  Of  course  there  can't 
be,  and  it 's  absurd  to  think  of  it,  but  it 
would  save  a  lot  of  unhappiness." 

"Well,"  said  Seldon,  dryly,  "when  you  've 
invented  a  way  to  prevent  marriage  from 
being  a  lottery,  let  me  know,  will  you  ?  " 
He  stood  up  and  smiled  nervously.  "Any 
of  you  coming  to  see  us  to-night  ? "  he 
asked. 

"That's  so,"  exclaimed  Weimer,  "I  for 
got.  It 's  the  first  night  of  '  A  Fool  and  His 
Money, '  is  n't  it?  Of  course  we  're  coming. " 

"  I  told  them  to  put  a  box  away  for  you  in 
case  you  wanted  it,"  Seldon  continued. 
"  Don't  expect  much.  It 's  a  silly  piece,  and 
I  've  a  silly  part,  and  I  'm  very  bad  in  it. 


44        MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY 

You  must  come  around  to  supper,  and  tell 
me  where  I  'm  bad  in  it,  and  we  will  talk 
it  over.  You  coming,  Stuart  ?  " 

"  My  dear  old  man, "  said  Stuart,  reproach 
fully.  "  Of  course  I  am.  I  've  had  my  seats 
for  the  last  three  weeks.  Do  you  suppose  I 
could  miss  hearing  you  mispronounce  all  the 
Hindostanee  I  've  taught  you  ?  " 

"Well,  good-night  then,"  said  the  actor, 
waving  his  hand  to  his  friends  as  he  moved 
away.  " 4  We,  who  are  about  to  die,  salute 
you ! '  " 

"Good  luck  to  you,"  said  Sloane,  holding 
up  his  glass.  "  To  the  Fool  and  His  Money, " 
he  laughed.  He  turned  to  the  table  again, 
and  sounded  the  bell  for  the  waiter.  "  Now 
let 's  send  him  a  telegram  and  wish  him 
success,  and  all  sign  it,"  he  said,  "and  don't 
you  fellows  tell  him  that  I  was  n't  in  front 
to-night.  I  've  got  to  go  to  a  dinner  the 
Travellers'  Club  are  giving  me."  There  was 
a  protesting  chorus  of  remonstrance.  "  Oh, 
I  don't  like  it  any  better  than  you  do,"  said 
Sloane,  "but  I'll  get  away  early  and  join 
you  before  the  play's  over.  No  one  in  the 
Travellers'  Club,  you  see,  has  ever  travelled 
farther  from  New  York  than  London  or  the 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        45 

Riviera,  and  so  when  a  member  starts  for 
Abyssinia  they  give  him  a  dinner,  and  he 
has  to  take  himself  very  seriously  indeed, 
and  cry  with  Seldon,  '  I  who  am  about  to 
die,  salute  you.'  If  that  man  there  was  any 
use,"  he  added,  interrupting  himself  and 
pointing  with  his  glass  at  Stuart,  '"  he  'd 
pack  up  his  things  to-night  and  come  with 
me." 

"Oh,  don't  urge  him,"  remonstrated 
Weimcr,  who  had  travelled  all  over  the 
world  in  imagination,  with  the  aid  of  globes 
and  maps,  but  never  had  got  any  farther 
from  home  than  Montreal.  "  We  can't  spare 
Stuart.  He  has  to  stop  here  and  invent  a 
preliminary  marriage  state,  so  that  if  he 
finds  he  does  n't  like  a  girl,  he  can  leave  her 
before  it  is  too  late." 

"You  sail  at  seven,  I  believe,  and  from 
Hoboken,  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Stuart  undis 
turbed.  "  If  you  '11  start  at  eleven  from  the 
New  York  side,  I  think  I  '11  go  with  you, 
but  I  hate  getting  up  early;  and  then  you 
see  —  I  know  what  dangers  lurk  in  Abyssinia, 
but  who  could  tell  what  might  not  happen  to 
him  in  Hoboken  ?  " 

When   Stuart   returned   to   his   room,   he 


46        MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY 

found  a  large  package  set  upright  in  an 
armchair  and  enveloped  by  many  wrappings ; 
but  the  handwriting  on  the  outside  told  him 
at  once  from  whom  it  came  and  what  it 
might  be,  and  he  pounced  upon  it  eagerly 
and  tore  it  from  its  covers.  The  photograph 
was  a  very  large  one,  and  the  likeness  to  the 
original  so  admirable  that  the  face  seemed 
to  smile  and  radiate  with  all  the  loveliness 
and  beauty  of  Miss  Delamar  herself.  Stuart 
beamed  upon  it  with  genuine  surprise  and 
pleasure,  and  exclaimed  delightedly  to  him 
self.  There  was  a  living  quality  about  the 
picture  which  made  him  almost  speak  to 
it,  and  thank  Miss  Delamar  through  it  for 
the  pleasure  she  had  given  him  and  the  honor 
she  had  bestowed.  He  was  proud,  flattered, 
and  triumphant,  and  while  he  walked  about 
the  room  deciding  where  he  would  place  it, 
and  holding  the  picture  respectfully  before 
him,  he  smiled  upon  it  with  grateful  satis 
faction. 

He  decided  against  his  dressing-table  as 
being  too  intimate  a  place  for  it,  and  so 
carried  the  picture  on  from  his  bedroom  to 
the  dining-room  beyond,  where  he  set  it 
among  his  silver  on  the  sideboard.  But  so 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        47 

little  of  his  time  was  spent  in  this  room  that 
he  concluded  he  would  derive  but  little 
pleasure  from  it  there,  and  so  bore  it  back 
again  into  his  library,  where  there  were 
many  other  photographs  and  portraits,  and 
where  to  other  eyes  than  his  own  it  would 
be  less  conspicuous. 

He  tried  it  first  in  one  place  and  then  in 
another;  but  in  each  position  the  picture 
predominated  and  asserted  itself  so  markedly, 
that  Stuart  gave  up  the  idea  of  keeping  it 
inconspicuous,  and  placed  it  prominently 
over  the  fire-place,  where  it  reigned  supreme 
above  every  other  object  in  the  room.  It 
was  not  only  the  most  conspicuous  object 
there,  but  the  living  quality  which  it  pos 
sessed  in  so  marked  a  degree,  and  which  was 
due  to  its  naturalness  of  pose  and  the  excel 
lence  of  the  likeness,  made  it  permeate  the 
place  like  a  presence  and  with  the  individu 
ality  of  a  real  person.  Stuart  observed  this 
effect  with  amused  interest,  and  noted  also 
that  the  photographs  of  other  women  had 
become  commonplace  in  comparison  like 
lithographs  in  a  shop  window,  and  that  the 
more  masculine  accessories  of  a  bachelor's 
apartment  had  grown  suddenly  aggressive 


48        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

and  out  of  keeping.  The  liquor  case  and  the 
racks  of  arms  and  of  barbarous  weapons  which 
he  had  collected  with  such  pride  seemed  to 
have  lost  their  former  value  and  meaning, 
and  he  instinctively  began  to  gather  up  the 
mass  of  books  and  maps  and  photographs 
and  pipes  and  gloves  which  lay  scattered 
upon  the  table,  and  to  put  them  in  their 
proper  place,  or  to  shove  them  out  of  sight 
altogether.  "  If  I  'm  to  live  up  to  that  pic 
ture,"  he  thought,  "I  must  see  that  George 
keeps  this  room  in  better  order  —  and  I  must 
stop  wandering  round  here  in  my  bath-robe. " 

His  mind  continued  on  the  picture  while 
he  was  dressing,  and  he  was  so  absorbed  in 
it  and  in  analyzing  the  effect  it  had  had 
upon  him,  that  his  servant  spoke  twice 
before  he  heard  him. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "I  shall  not  dine  here 
to-night."  Dining  at  home  was  with  him  a 
very  simple  affair,  and  a  somewhat  lonely 
one,  and  he  avoided  it  almost  nightly  by 
indulging  himself  in  a  more  expensive 
fashion. 

But  even  as  he  spoke  an  idea  came  to 
Stuart  which  made  him  reconsider  his  deter 
mination,  and  which  struck  him  as  so  amus- 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        49 

ing,  that  he  stopped  pulling  at  his  tie  and 
smiled  delightedly  at  himself  in  the  glass 
before  him. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  still  smiling,  "I  will  dine 
here  to-night.  Get  me  anything  in  a  hurry. 
You  need  not  wait  now;  go  get  the  dinner 
up  as  soon  as  possible." 

The  effect  which  the  photograph  of  Miss 
Delamar  had  upon  him,  and  the  transforma 
tion  it  had  accomplished  in  his  room,  had 
been  as  great  as  would  have  marked  the 
presence  there  of  the  girl  herself.  While 
considering  this  it  had  come  to  Stuart,  like 
a  flash  of  inspiration,  that  here  was  a  way 
by  which  he  could  test  the  responsibilities 
and  conditions  of  married  life  without  com 
promising  either  himself,  or  the  girl  to 
whom  he  would  suppose  himself  to  be 
married. 

"I  will  put  that  picture  at  the  head  of  the 
table,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  play  that  it  is 
she  herself,  her  own,  beautiful,  lovely  self, 
and  I  will  talk  to  her  and  exchange  views 
with  her,  and  make  her  answer  me  just  as 
she  would  were  we  actually  married  and 
settled. "  He  looked  at  his  watch  and  found 
it  was  just  seven  o'clock.  "I  will  begin 


50        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

now,"  he  said,  "and  I  will  keep  up  the 
delusion  until  midnight.  To-night  is  the 
best  time  to  try  the  experiment  because 
the  picture  is  new  now,  and  its  influence  will 
be  all  the  more  real.  In  a  few  weeks  it  may 
have  lost  some  of  its  freshness  and  reality 
and  will  have  become  one  of  the  fixtures  in 
the  room." 

Stuart  decided  that  under  these  new  con 
ditions  it  would  be  more  pleasant  to  dine  at 
Delmonico's,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of 
asking  the  Picture  what  she  thought  of  it, 
when  he  remembered  that  while  it  had  been 
possible  for  him  to  make  a  practice  of  dining 
at  that  place  as  a  bachelor,  he  could  not  now 
afford  so  expensive  a  luxury,  and  he  decided 
that  he  had  better  economize  in  that  particu 
lar  and  go  instead  to  one  of  the  table  d'hote 
restaurants  in  the  neighborhood.  He  regret 
ted  not  having  thought  of  this  sooner,  for 
he  did  not  care  to  dine  at  a  table  d'h6te  in 
evening  dress,  as  in  some  places  it  rendered 
him  conspicuous.  So,  sooner  than  have  this 
happen  he  decided  to  dine  at  home,  as  he 
had  originally  intended  when  he  first  thought 
of  attempting  this  experiment,  and  then  con 
ducted  the  picture  into  dinner  and  placed 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        51 

her  in  an  armchair  facing  him,  with  the 
candles  full  upon  the  face. 

"Now  this  is  something  like,"  he  ex 
claimed,  joyously.  "I  can't  imagine  any 
thing  better  than  this.  Here  we  are  all  to 
ourselves  with  no  one  to  bother  us,  with  no 
chaperone,  or  chaperone's  husband  either, 
which  is  generally  worse.  Why  is  it,  my 
dear,"  he  asked  gayly,  in  a  tone  that  he 
considered  affectionate  and  husbandly,  "that 
the  attractive  chaperones  are  always  handi 
capped  by  such  stupid  husbands,  and  vice 
versa  ? " 

"If  that  is  true,"  replied  the  Picture,  or 
replied  Stuart,  rather,  for  the  picture,  "I 
cannot  be  a  very  attractive  chaperone." 
Stuart  bowed  politely  at  this,  and  then  con 
sidered  the  point  it  had  raised  as  to  whether 
he  had,  in  assuming  both  characters,  the 
right  to  pay  himself  compliments.  He 
decided  against  himself  in  this  particular 
instance,  but  agreed  that  he  was  not  respon 
sible  for  anything  the  Picture  might  say,  so 
long  as  he  sincerely  and  fairly  tried  to  make 
it  answer  him  as  he  thought  the  original 
would  do  under  like  circumstances.  From 
what  he  knew  of  the  original  under  other 


52        MISS    DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

conditions,  he  decided  that  he  could  give  a 
very  close  imitation  of  her  point  of  view. 

Stuart's  interest  in  his  dinner  was  so  real 
that  he  found  himself  neglecting  his  wife, 
and  he  had  to  pull  himself  up  to  his  duty 
with  a  sharp  reproof.  After  smiling  back  at 
her  for  a  moment  or  two  until  his  servant 
had  again  left  them  alone,  he  asked  her  to 
tell  him  what  she  had  been  doing  during  the 
day. 

"Oh,  nothing  very  important,"  said  the 
Picture.  "  I  went  shopping  in  the  morning 
and  —  " 

Stuart  stopped  himself  and  considered  this 
last  remark  doubtfully.  "Now,  how  do  I 
know  she  would  go  shopping  ? "  he  asked 
himself.  "People  from  Harlem  and  women 
who  like  bargain  counters,  and  who  eat 
chocolate  meringue  for  lunch,  and  then  stop 
in  at  a  continuous  performance,  go  shop 
ping.  It  must  be  the  comic  paper  sort  of 
wives  who  go  about  matching  shades  and 
buying  hooks  and  eyes.  Yes,  I  must  have 
made  Miss  Delamar's  understudy  mis 
represent  her.  I  beg  your  pardon,  my 
dear,"  he  said  aloud  to  the  Picture.  "You 
did  not  go  shopping  this  morning.  You 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        53 

probably  went  to  a  woman's  luncheon  some 
where.  Tell  me  about  that. " 

"Oh,  yes,  I  went  to  lunch  with  the 
Antwerps,"  said  the  Picture,  "and  they  had 
that  Russian  woman  there  who  is  getting 
up  subscriptions  for  the  Siberian  prisoners. 
It 's  rather  fine  of  her  because  it  exiles  her 
from  Russia.  And  she  is  a  princess." 

"That's  nothing,"  Stuart  interrupted, 
"they're  all  princesses  when  you  see  them 
on  Broadway." 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  the  Picture. 

"It's  of  no  consequence,"  said  Stuart, 
apologetically,  "it 's  a  comic  song.  I  forgot 
you  didn't  like  comic  songs.  Well  —  go 
on." 

"Oh,  then  I  went  to  a  tea,  and  then  I 
stopped  in  to  hear  Madame  Ruvier  read  a 
paper  on  the  Ethics  of  Ibsen,  and  she  — 

Stuart's  voice  had  died  away  gradually, 
and  he  caught  himself  wondering  whether  he 
had  told  George  to  lay  in  a  fresh  supply  of 
cigars.  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said, 
briskly,  "I  was  listening,  but  I  was  just 
wondering  whether  I  had  any  cigars  left. 
You  were  saying  that  you  had  been  at 
Madame  Ruvicr's,  and  —  " 


54        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

" I  am  afraid  that  you  were  not  interested," 
said  the  Picture.  "  Never  mind,  it 's  my 
fault.  Sometimes  I  think  I  ought  to  do 
things  of  more  interest,  so  that  I  should  have 
something  to  talk  to  you  about  when  you 
come  home. " 

Stuart  wondered  at  what  hour  he  would 
come  home  now  that  he  was  married.  As  a 
bachelor  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  stopping 
on  his  way  up  town  from  the  law  office  at 
the  club,  or  to  take  tea  at  the  houses  of  the 
different  girls  he  liked.  Of  course  he  could 
not  do  that  now  as  a  married  man.  He 
would  instead  have  to  limit  his  calls  to 
married  women,  as  all  the  other  married 
men  of  his  acquaintance  did.  But  at  the 
moment  he  could  not  think  of  any  attractive 
married  women  who  would  like  his  dropping 
in  on  them  in  such  a  familiar  manner,  and 
the  other  sort  did  not  as  yet  appeal  to  him. 

He  seated  himself  in  front  of  the  coal -fire 
in  the  library,  with  the  Picture  in  a  chair 
close  beside  him,  and  as  he  puffed  pleasantly 
on  his  cigar  he  thought  how  well  this  suited 
him,  and  how  delightful  it  was  to  find  con 
tent  in  so  simple  and  continuing  a  pleasure. 
He  could  almost  feel  the  pressure  of  his 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        55 

wife's  hand  as  it  lay  in  his  own,  as  they  sat 
in  silent  sympathy  looking  into  the  friendly 
glow  of  the  fire. 

There  was  a  long  pleasant  pause. 

"  They  're  giving  Sloane  a  dinner  to-night 
at  the  'Travellers',"  Stuart  said  at  last,  "in 
honor  of  his  going  to  Abyssinia." 

Stuart  pondered  for  some  short  time  as  to 
what  sort  of  a  reply  Miss  Delamar's  under 
study  ought  to  make  to  this  innocent  remark. 
He  recalled  the  fact  that  on  numerous  occa 
sions  the  original  had  shown  not  only  a  lack 
of  knowledge  in  far-away  places,  but  what 
was  more  trying,  a  lack  of  interest  as  well. 
For  the  moment  he  could  not  see  her  robbed 
of  her  pretty  environment  and  tramping 
through  undiscovered  countries  at  his  side. 
So  the  Picture's  reply,  when  it  came,  was 
strictly  in  keeping  with  several  remarks 
which  Miss  Delamar  herself  had  made  to 
him  in  the  past. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Picture,  politely,  "and 
where  is  Abyssinia  —  in  India,  is  n't  it?" 

"  No,  not  exactly,"  corrected  Stuart,  mildly ; 
"you  pass  it  on  your  way  to  India,  though, 
as  you  go  through  the  Red  Sea.  Sloane  is 
taking  Winchesters  with  him  and  a  double 


56        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

express  and  a  '  five  fifty. '  He  wants  to  test 
their  penetration.  I  think  myself  that  the 
express  is  the  best,  but  he  says  Selous  and 
Chanler  think  very  highly  of  the  Winchester. 
I  don't  know,  I  never  shot  a  rhinoceros. 
The  time  I  killed  that  elephant,"  he  went 
on,  pointing  at  two  tusks  that  stood  with 
some  assegais  in  a  corner,  "I  used  an 
express,  and  I  had  to  let  go  with  both 
barrels.  I  suppose,  though,  if  I  'd  needed  a 
third  shot  I  'd  have  wished  it  was  a 
Winchester.  He  was  charging  the  smoke, 
you  see,  and  I  could  n't  get  away  because 
I  'd  caught  my  foot  —  but  I  told  you  about 
that,  did  n't  I  ?  "  Stuart  interrupted  himself 
to  ask  politely. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Picture,  cheerfully,  "I 
remember  it  very  well ;  it  was  very  foolish 
of  you." 

Stuart  straightened  himself  with  a  slightly 
injured  air  and  avoided  the  Picture's  eye. 
He  had  been  stopped  midway  in  what  Avas 
one  of  his  favorite  stories,  and  it  took  a 
brief  space  of  time  for  him  to  recover 
himself,  and  to  sink  back  again  into  the 
pleasant  lethargy  in  which  he  had  been 
basking. 


MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY        57 

"Still, "he  said,  "I  think  the  express  is 
the  better  gun." 

"Oh,  is  an  4  express  '  a  gun  ?  "  exclaimed 
the  Picture,  with  sudden  interest.  "Of 
course,  I  might  have  known." 

Stuart  turned  in  his  chair  and  surveyed 
the  Picture  in  some  surprise.  "  But,  my 
dear  girl,"  he  remonstrated  kindly,  "why 
did  n't  you  ask,  if  you  did  n't  know  what  I 
was  talking  about.  What  did  you  suppose 
it  was  ?  " 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  the  Picture,  "I 
thought  it  was  something  to  do  with  his 
luggage.  Abyssinia  sounds  so  far  away," 
she  explained,  smiling  sweetly.  "You  can't 
expect  one  to  be  interested  in  such  queer 
places,  can  you  ?  " 

"No,"  Stuart  answered,  reluctantly,  and 
looking  steadily  at  the  fire.  "I  suppose  not. 
But  you  see,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "I  'd  have 
gone  with  him,  if  I  hadn't  married  you,  and 
so  I  am  naturally  interested  in  his  outfit. 
They  wanted  me  to  make  a  comparative 
study  of  the  little  semi-independent  states 
down  there,  and  of  how  far  the  Italian  gov 
ernment  allows  them  to  rule  themselves. 
That's  what  I  was  to  have  done." 


58       MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

But  the  Picture  hastened  to  reassure  him. 
"Oh,  you  mustn't  think,"  she  exclaimed, 
quickly,  "  that  I  mean  to  keep  you  at  home. 
I  love  to  travel,  too.  I  want  you  to  go  on 
exploring  places  just  as  you  've  always  done, 
only  now  I  will  go  with  you.  We  might  do 
the  Cathedral  towns,  for  instance." 

"The  what!"  gasped  Stuart,  raising  his 
head.  "  Oh,  yes,  of  course, "  he  added,  hur 
riedly,  sinking  back  into  his  chair  with  a 
slightly  bewildered  expression.  "  That  would 
be  very  nice.  Perhaps  your  mother  would 
like  to  go  too;  it 's  not  a  dangerous  expedi 
tion,  is  it  ?  I  was  thinking  of  taking  you 
on  a  trip  through  the  South  Seas  —  but  I 
suppose  the  Cathedral  towns  are  just  as 
exciting.  Or  we  might  even  penetrate  as 
far  into  the  interior  as  the  English  lakes  and 
read  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge  as  we  go." 

Miss  Delamar's  understudy  observed  him 
closely  for  a  moment,  but  he  made  no  sign, 
and  so  she  turned  her  eyes  again  to  the  fire 
with  a  slightly  troubled  look.  She  had  not 
a  strong  sense  of  humor,  but  she  was  very 
beautiful. 

Stuart's  conscience  troubled  him  for  the 
next  few  moments,  and  he  endeavored  to 


MTSS  DELAlfAR'S   UNDERSTUDY        59 

make  up  for  his  impatience  of  the  moment 
before,  by  telling  the  Picture  how  particu- 
hirly  well  she  was  looking. 

"It  seems  almost  selfish  to  keep  it  all  to 
myself,"  he  mused. 

"You  don't  mean,"  inquired  the  Picture, 
with  tender  anxiety,  "that  you  want  any  one. 
else  here,  do  you  ?  I  'm  sure  I  could  be  con 
tent  to  spend  every  evening  like  this.  I  Vc 
had  enough  of  going  out  and  talking  to 
people  I  don't  care  about.  Two  seasons,'1 
she  added,  with  the  superior  air  of  one  who 
has  put  away  childish  things,  "was  quite 
enough  of  it  for  me." 

"Well,  I  never  took  it  as  seriously  as 
that,"  said  Stuart,  "but,  of  course,  I  don't 
want  any  one  else  here  to  spoil  our  evening. 
It  is  perfect." 

He  assured  himself  that  it  was  perfect,  but 
he  wondered  what  was  the  loyal  tiling  for  a 
married  couple  to  do  \\hen  the  conversation 
came  to  a  dead  stop.  And  did  the  conversa 
tion  come  to  a  stop  because  they  preferred 
to  sit  in  silent  sympathy  and  communion,  or 
because  they  had  nothing  interesting  to  talk 
about?  Stuart  doubted  if  silence  was  the 
truest  expression  of  the  most  perfect  conii- 


60        MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY 

dence  and  sympathy.  He  generally  found 
when  he  was  interested,  that  either  he  or  his 
companion  talked  all  the  time.  It  was  when 
he  was  bored  that  he  sat  silent.  But  it  was 
probably  different  with  married  people. 
Possibly  they  thought  of  each  other  during 
these  pauses,  and  of  their  own  affairs  and 
interests,  and  then  he  asked  himself  how 
many  interests  could  one  fairly  retain  with 
which  the  other  had  nothing  to  do  ? 

"  I  suppose, "  thought  Stuart,  "  that  I  had 
better  compromise  and  read  aloud.  Should 
you  like  me  to  read  aloud  ? "  he  asked, 
doubtfully. 

The  Picture  brightened  perceptibly  at  this, 
and  said  that  she  thought  that  would  be 
charming.  "  We  might  make  it  quite  in 
structive,"  she  suggested,  entering  eagerly 
into  the  idea.  "We  ought  to  agree  to  read 
so  many  pages  every  night.  Suppose  we 
begin  with  Guizot's  '  History  of  France. '  I 
have  always  meant  to  read  that,  the  illus 
trations  look  so  interesting." 

"Yes,  we  might  do  that,"  assented  Stuart, 
doubtfully.  "It  is  in  six  volumes,  isn't  it? 
Suppose  now,  instead,"  he  suggested,  with 
an  impartial  air,  "  we  begin  that  to-morrow 


MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY        61 

night,  and  go  this  evening  to  see  Seldon's 
new  play,  '  The  Fool  and  His  Money.'  It's 
not  too  late,  and  he  has  saved  a  box  for  us, 
and  Weimer  and  Hives  and  Sloaue  will  he 
there,  and  —  " 

The  Picture's  beautiful  face  settled  for 
just  an  instant  in  an  expression  of  'disap 
pointment.  "  Of  course, "  she  replied  slowly, 
"if  you  wish  it.  But  I  thought  you  said," 
she  went  on  with  a  sweet  smile,  "that  this 
was  perfect.  Now  you  want  to  go  out  again. 
Is  n't  this  better  than  a  hot  theatre  ?  You 
might  put  up  with  it  for  one  evening,  don't 
you  think  ?  " 

"Put  up  with  it!"  exclaimed  Stuart, 
enthusiastically;  "I  could  spend  every  even 
ing  so.  It  was  only  a  suggestion.  It  was  n't 
that  I  wanted  to  go  so  much  as  that  I 
thought  Seldon  might  be  a  little  hurt  if  I 
did  n't.  But  I  can  tell  him  you  were  not 
feeling  very  well,  and  that  we  will  come 
some  other  evening.  He  generally  likes  to 
have  us  there  on  the  first  night,  that 's  all. 
But  he  '11  understand." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Picture,  "if  you  put  it  in 
the  light  of  a  duty  to  your  friend,  of  course 
we  will  go." 


62        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

"Not  at  all,"  replied  Stuart,  heartily;  "I 
will  read  something.  I  should  really  prefer 
it.  How  would  you  like  something  of 
Browning's  ? " 

"Oh,  I  read  all  of  Browning  once,"  said 
the  Picture,  "I  think  I  should  like  some 
thing  new." 

Stuart  gasped  at  this,  but  said  nothing, 
and  began  turning  over  the  books  on  the 
centre  table.  He  selected  one  of  the  monthly 
magazines,  and  choosing  a  story  which 
neither  of  them  had  read,  sat  down  com 
fortably  in  front  of  the  fire,  and  finished  it 
without  interruption  and  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the.  Picture  and  himself.  The  story  had 
made  the  half  hour  pass  very  pleasantly,  and 
they  both  commented  on  it  with  interest. 

"I  had  an  experience  once  myself  some 
thing  like  that,"  said  Stuart,  with  a  pleased 
smile  of  recollection ;  "  it  happened  in  Paris  " 
—  he  began  with  the  deliberation  of  a  man 
who  is  sure  of  his  story  —  "  and  it  turned  out 
in  much  the  same  way.  It  did  n't  begin  in 
Paris ;  it  really  began  while  we  were  cross 
ing  the  English  Channel  to  —  " 

"Oh,  you  mean  about  the  Russian  who 
took  you  for  some  one  else  and  had  you  fol- 


MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY        63 

lowed,"  said  the  Picture.  "Yes,  that  was 
like  it,  except  that  in  your  case  nothing 
happened. " 

Stuart  took  his  cigar  from  between  his 
lips  and  frowned  severely  at  the  lighted  end 
for  some  little  time  hefore  he  spoke.  j> 

"My  dear,"  he  remonstrated,  gently,  "you 
mustn't  tell  me  I've  told  you  all  my  old 
stories  before.  It  is  n't  fair.  Now  that  I  'm 
married,  you  see,  I  can't  go  about  and  have 
new  experiences,  and  I  've  got  to  make  use 
of  the  old  ones." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  exclaimed  the  Pic 
ture,  remorsefully.  "  I  did  n't  mean  to  be 
rude.  Please  tell  me  about  it.  I  should  like 
to  hear  it  again,  ever  so  much.  I  should 
like  to  hear  it  again,  really." 

"Nonsense,"  said  Stuart,  laughing  and 
shaking  his  head.  "I  was  only  joking; 
personally  I  hate  people  who  tell  long 
stories.  That  does  n't  matter.  I  was  think 
ing  of  something  else." 

He  continued  thinking  of  something  else, 
which  was,  that  though  he  had  been  in  jest 
when  he  spoke  of  having  given  up  the  chance 
of  meeting  fresh  experiences,  he  had  never 
theless  described  a  condition,  and  a  painfully 


64        MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY 

true  one.  His  real  life  seemed  to  have 
stopped,  and  he  saw  himself  in  the  future 
looking  back  and  referring  to  it,  as  though 
it  were  the  career  of  an  entirely  different 
person,  of  a  young  man,  with  quick  sympa 
thies  which  required  satisfying,  as  any 
appetite  requires  food.  And  he  had  an 
uncomfortable  doubt  that  these  many  ever- 
ready  sympathies  would  rebel  if  fed  on  only 
one  diet. 

The  Picture  did  not  interrupt  him  in  his 
thoughts,  and  he  let  his  mind  follow  his  eyes 
as  they  wandered  over  the  objects  above  him 
on  the  mantle-shelf.  They  all  meant  some 
thing  from  the  past,  —  a  busy,  wholesome 
past  which  had  formed  habits  of  thought  and 
action,  habits  he  could  no  longer  enjoy  alone, 
and  which,  on  the  other  hand,  it  was  quite 
impossible  for  him  to  share  with  any  one 
else.  He  was  no  longer  to  be  alone. 

Stuart  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair  and 
poked  at  the  fire  before  him. 

"Do  you  remember  the  day  you  came  to 
see  me,"  said  the  Picture,  sentimentally, 
"  and  built  the  fire  yourself  and  lighted  some 
girl's  letters  to  make  it  burn  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Stuart,  "that  is,  I  said  that 


MISS  DELAMAR'S  UNDERSTUDY        65 

they  were  some  girl's  letters.  It  made  it 
more  picturesque.  I  am  afraid  they  were 
bills.  I  should  say  I  did  remember  it,"  he 
continued,  enthusiastically.  "You  wore  a 
black  dress  and  little  red  slippers  with  big 
black  rosettes,  and  you  looked  as  beautiful 
as  —  as  night  —  as  a  moonlight  night." 

The  Picture  frowned  slightly. 

"You  are  always  telling  me  about  how  I 
looked, "  she  complained ;  "  can't  you  remem 
ber  any  time  when  we  were  together  without 
remembering  what  I  had  on  and  how  I 
appeared  ? " 

"I  cannot,"  said  Stuart,  promptly.  "I 
can  recall  lots  of  other  things  besides,  but 
I  can't  forget  how  you  looked.  You  have  a 
fashion  of  emphasizing  episodes  in  that  way 
which  is  entirely  your  own.  But,  as  I  say, 
I  can  remember  something  else.  Do  you 
remember,  for  instance,  when  we  went  up  to 
West  Point  on  that  yacht?  Wasn't  it  a 
grand  day,  with  the  autumn  leaves  on  both 
sides  of  the  Hudson,  and  the  dress  parade, 
and  the  dance  afterward  at  the  hotel  ? " 

"Yes,  I  should  think  I  did,"  said  the 
Picture,  smiling.  "  You  spent  all  your  time 
examining  cannon,  and  talking  to  the  men 


66        MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY 

about  *  firing  in  open  order, '  and  left  me  all 
alone." 

"  Left  you  all  alone  !  I  like  that, "  laughed 
Stuart;  "all  alone  with  about  eighteen 
officers. " 

"Well,  but  that  was  natural,"  returned 
the  Picture.  "  They  were  men.  It 's  natural 
for  a  girl  to  talk  to  men,  but  why  should  a 
man  want  to  talk  to  men  ?  " 

"Well,  I  know  better  than  that  now," 
said  Stuart. 

He  proceeded  to  show  that  he  knew  better 
by  remaining  silent  for  the  next  half  hour, 
during  which  time  he  continued  to  wonder 
whether  this  effort  to  keep  up  a  conversation 
was  not  radically  wrong.  He  thought  of 
several  things  he  might  say,  but  he  argued 
that  it  was  an  impossible  situation  where  a 
man  had  to  make  conversation  with  his  own 
wife. 

The  clock  struck  ten  as  he  sat  waiting, 
and  he  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  Picture;  "what 
makes  you  so  restless  ?  " 

Stuart  regarded  the  Picture  timidly  for  a 
moment  before  he  spoke.  "I  was  just 
thinking,"  he  said,  doubtfully,  "that  we 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        67 

might  run  down  after  all,  and  take  a  look  in 
at  the  last  act ;  it 's  not  too  late  even  now. 
They  're  sure  to  run  behind  on  the  first 
night.  And  then,"  he  urged,  "we  can  go 
around  and  see  Seldon.  You  have  never 
been  behind  the  scenes,  have  you  ?  It 's 
very  interesting." 

"No,  I  have  not,  but  if  we  do,"  remon 
strated  the  Picture,  pathetically,  "you  know 
all  those  men  will  come  trooping  home  with 
us.  You  know  they  will." 

"But  that's  very  complimentary,"  said 
Stuart.  "Why,  I  like  my  friends  to  like 
my  wife." 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  how  they  stay  when 
they  get  here,"  she  answered;  "I  don't 
believe  they  ever  sleep.  Don't  you  remem 
ber  the  last  supper  you  gave  me  before  we 
were  married,  when  Mrs.  Starr  and  you  all 
were  discussing  Mr.  Seldon's  play  ?  She 
didn't  make  a  move  to  go  until  half  past 
two,  and  I  was  that  sleepy,  I  could  n't  keep 
my  eyes  open. " 

"Yes,"  said  Stuart,  "I  remember.  I'm 
sorry.  I  thought  it  was  very  interest iiiir. 
Seldon  changed  the  whole  second  act  on 
account  of  what  she  said.  Well,  after  this," 


68       MISS  DELAMAR'S  UNDERSTUDY 

he  laughed  with  cheerful  desperation,  "I 
think  I  shall  make  up  for  the  part  of  a 
married  man  in  a  pair  of  slippers  and  a 
dressing-gown,  and  then  perhaps  I  won't  be 
tempted  to  roam  abroad  at  night. " 

"  You  must  wear  the  gown  they  are  going 
to  give  you  at  Oxford,"  said  the  Picture, 
smiling  placidly.  "The  one  Aunt  Lucy  was 
telling  me  about.  Why  do  they  give  you  a 
gown  ?  "  she  asked.  "  It  seems  such  an  odd 
thing  to  do." 

"The  gown  comes  with  the  degree,  I 
believe,"  said  Stuart. 

"  But  why  do  they  give  you  a  degree  ? " 
persisted  the  Picture;  "you  never  studied  at 
Oxford,  did  you  ?  " 

Stuart  moved  slightly  in  his  chair  and 
shook  his  head.  "  I  thought  I  told  you, "  he 
said,  gently.  "No,  I  never  studied  there. 
I  wrote  some  books  on  —  things,  and  they 
liked  them." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now,  you  did  tell 
me,"  said  the  Picture;  "and  I  told  Aunt 
Lucy  about  it,  and  said  we  would  be  in 
England  during  the  season,  when  you  got 
your  degree,  and  she  said  you  must  be 
awfully  clever  to  get  it.  You  see  —  she  does 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        69 

appreciate  you,  and  you  always  treat  her  so 
distantly. " 

"Do'l?"  said  Stuart,  quietly;  "I'm 
sorry. " 

"Will  you  have  your  portrait  painted  in 
it?"  asked  the  Picture. 

"In  what?" 

"In  the  gown.  You  are  not  listening," 
said  the  Picture,  reproachfully.  "  You  ought 
to.  Aunt  Lucy  says  it 's  a  beautiful  shade 
of  red  silk,  and  very  long.  Is  it  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Stuart.  He  shook 
his  head,  and  dropping  his  chin  into  his 
hands,  stared  coldly  down  into  the  fire.  He 
tried  to  persuade  himself  that  he  had  been 
vainglorious,  and  that  he  had  given  too  much 
weight  to  the  honor  which  the  University  of 
Oxford  would  bestow  upon  him ;  that  he  had 
taken  the  degree  too  seriously,  and  that  the 
Picture's  view  of  it  was  the  view  of  the  rest 
of  the  world.  But  he  could  not  convince 
himself  that  he  was  entirely  at  fault. 

"Is  it  too  late  to  begin  on  Guizot  ?  "  sug 
gested  his  Picture,  as  an  alternative  to  his 
plan.  "It  sounds  so  improving." 

"Yes,  it  is  much  too  late,"  answered 
Stuart,  decidedly.  "Besides,  I  don't  want 


70       MISS  DELAMARS  UNDERSTUDY 

to  be  improved.  I  want  to  be  amused,  or 
inspired,  or  scolded.  The  chief  good  of 
friends  is  that  they  do  one  of  these  three 
things,  and  a  wife  should  do  all  three." 

"  Which  shall  I  do  ?  "  asked  the  Picture, 
smiling  good-humoredly. 

Stuart  looked  at  the  beautiful  face  and  at 
the  reclining  figure  of  the  woman  to  whom 
he  was  to  turn  for  sympathy  for  the  rest  of 
his  life,  and  felt  a  cold  shiver  of  terror,  that 
passed  as  quickly  as  it  came.  He  reached 
out  his  hand  arid  placed  it  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair  where  his  wife's  hand  should  have 
been,  and  patted  the  place  kindly.  He 
would  shut  his  eyes  to  everything  but  that 
she  was  good  and  sweet  and  his  wife.  What 
ever  else  she  lacked  that  her  beauty  had 
covered  up  and  hidden,  and  the  want  of 
which  had  lain  unsuspected  in  their  previous 
formal  intercourse,  could  not  be  mended 
now.  He  would  settle  his  step  to  hers,  and 
eliminate  all  those  interests  from  his  life 
which  were  not  hers  as  well.  He  had  chosen 
a  beautiful  idol,  and  not  a  companion,  for  a 
wife.  He  had  tried  to  warm  his  hands  at 
the  fire  of  a  diamond. 

Stuart's  eyes  closed  wearily  as  though  to 


MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY        71 

shut  out  the  memories  of  the  past,  or  the 
foreknowledge  of  what  the  future  was  sure  to 
be.  His  head  sank  forward  on  his  breast, 
and  with  his  hand  shading  his  eyes,  he 
looked  beyond,  through  the  dying  fire,  into 
the  succeeding  years. 

The  gay  little  French  clock  on  the  table 
sounded  the  hour  of  midnight  briskly,  with 
a  pert  insistent  clamor,  and  at  the  same 
instant  a  boisterous  and  unruly  knocking 
answered  it  from  outside  the  library  door. 

Stuart  rose  uncertainly  from  his  chair  and 
surveyed  the  tiny  clock  face  with  a  startled 
expression  of  bewilderment  and  relief. 

"Stuart!"  his  friends  called  impatiently 
from  the  hall.  "  Stuart,  let  us  in ! "  and 
without  waiting  further  for  recognition  a 
merry  company  of  gentlemen  pushed  their 
way  noisily  into  the  room. 

"  Where  the  devil  have  you  been  ?  "  de 
manded  Weimer.  "You  don't  deserve  to  be 
spoken  to  at  all  after  quitting  us  like  that. 
But  Seldon  is  so  good-natured,"  he  went  on, 
"  that  he  sent  us  after  you.  It  was  a  great 
success,  and  he  made  a  rattling  good  speech, 
and  you  missed  the  whole  thing;  and  you 


72        MISS  DELAMAR'S   UNDERSTUDY 

ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  We  've 
asked  half  the  people  in  front  to  supper  — 
two  stray  Englishmen,  all  the  Wilton  girls 
and  their  governor,  and  the  chap  that  wrote 
the  play.  And  Seldon  and  his  brother  Sam 
are  coming  as  soon  as  they  get  their  make 
up  off.  Don't  stand  there  like  that,  but 
hurry.  What  have  you  been  doing  ?  " 

Stuart  gave  a  nervous,  anxious  laugh. 
"Oh,  don't  ask  me,"  he  cried.  "It  was 
awful.  I  've  been  trying  an  experiment, 
and  I  had  to  keep  it  up  until  midnight, 
and  —  I  'm  so  glad  you  fellows  have  come," 
he  continued,  halting  midway  in  his  expla 
nation.  "I  was  blue." 

"You  've  been  asleep  in  front  of  the 
fire,"  said  young  Sloane,  "and  you've  been 
dreaming. " 

"Perhaps,"  laughed  Stuart,  gayly,  "per 
haps.  But  I  'm  awake  now  in  any  event. 
Sloane,  old  man,"  he  cried,  dropping  both 
hands  on  the  youngster's  shoulders.  "  How 
much  money  have  you  ?  Enough  to  take  me 
to  Gibraltar  ?  They  can  cable  me  the 
rest." 

"  Hoorah ! "  shouted  Sloane,  waltzing  from 
one  end  of  the  room  to  the  other.  "And 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        73 

we  're  off  to  Ab-yss-in-ia  in  the  morn-ing," 
he  sang.  "  There 's  plenty  in  my  money 
belt,"  he  cried,  slapping  his  sides,  "  you  can 
hear  the  ten-pound  notes  crackle  whenever 
I  breathe,  and  it 's  all  yours,  my  dear  boy, 
and  welcome.  And  I  '11  prove  to  you  that  the 
Winchester  is  the  better  gun." 

"  All  right,"  returned  Stuart,  gayly,  "  and 
I'  11  try  to  prove  that  the  Italians  don't  know 
how  to  govern  a  native  state.  But  who  is 
giving  this  supper,  anyway  ? "  he  demanded. 
"  That  is  the  main  thing  —  that 's  what  I  want 
to  know." 

"You've  got  to  pack,  haven't  you?"  sug 
gested  Rives. 

"  I  '11  pack  when  I  get  back,"  said  Stuart, 
struggling  into  his  greatcoat,  and  searching 
in  his  pockets  for  his  gloves.  "  Besides,  my 
things  are  always  ready  and  there  's  plenty 
of  time,  the  boat  does  n't  leave  for  six  hours 
yet." 

"  We  '11  all  come  back  and  help,"  said 
Weimer. 

"  Then  I  '11  never  get  away,"  laughed  Stuart. 
He  was  radiant,  happy,  and  excited,  like  a  boy 
back  from  school  for  the  holidays.  But  when 
they  had  reached  the  pavement,  he  halted  and 


74        MISS  DELAMAR'S  UNDERSTUDY 

ran  his  hand  down  into  his  pocket,  as  though 
feeling  for  his  latch-key,  and  stood  looking 
doubtfully  at  his  friends. 

"What  is  it  now?"  asked  Rives,  impa 
tiently.  "  Have  you  forgotten  something  ? " 

Stuart  looked  back  at  the  front  door  in 
momentary  indecision. 

"  Y-es,"  he  answered.  "  I  did  forget  some 
thing.  But  it  does  n't  matter,"  he  added, 
cheerfully,  taking  Sloane's  arm. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said,  "  and  so  Seldon  made 
a  hit,  did  he  ?  I  am  glad  —  and  tell  me,  old 
man,  how  long  will  we  have  to  wait  at  Gib  for 
the  P.  &  0.  ? " 

Stuart's  servant  had  heard  the  men  troop 
ing  down  the  stairs,  laughing  and  calling  to 
one  another  as  they  went,  and  judging  from 
this  that  they  had  departed  for  the  night,  he 
put  out  all  the  lights  in  the  library  and  closed 
the  piano,  and  lifted  the  windows  to  clear  the 
room  of  the  tobacco-smoke.  He  did  not  notice 
the  beautiful  photograph  sitting  upright  in  the 
armchair  before  the  fireplace,  and  so  left  it 
alone  in  the  deserted  library. 

The  cold  night-air  swept  in  through  the 
open  window  and  chilled  the  silent  room,  and 
the  dead  coals  in  the  grate  dropped  one  by 


MISS  DELAMARS   UNDERSTUDY        75 

one  into  the  fender  with  a  dismal  echoing 
clatter ;  but  the  Picture  still  sat  in  the  arm 
chair  with  the  same  graceful  pose  and  the 
same  lovely  expression,  and  smiled  sweetly 
at  the  encircling  darkness. 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

IT  was  a  warm  afternoon  in  the  early  spring, 
and  the  air  in  the  office  was  close  and  heavy. 
The  letters  of  the  morning  had  been  answered 
and  the  proofs  corrected,  and  the  gentlemen 
who  had  come  with  ideas  worth  one  column 
at  space  rates,  and  which  they  thought  worth 
three,  had  compromised  with  the  editor  on  a 
basis  of  two,  and  departed.  /The  editor's  desk 
was  covered  with  manuscripts  in  a  heap/  a 
heap  that  never  seemed  to  grow  less,  and 
each  manuscript  bore  a  character  of  its  own, 
as  marked  or  as  unobtrusive  as  the  character 
of  the  man  or  of  the  woman  who  had  written 
it,  which  disclosed  itself  in  the  care  with 
which  some  were  presented  for  consideration, 
in  the  vain  little  ribbons  of  others,  or  the 
selfish  manner  in  which  still  others  were 
tightly  rolled  or  vilely  scribbled. 

The  editor  held  the  first  page  of  a  poem  in 
his  hand,  and  was  reading  it  mechanically, 


THE  EDITORS  STORY  77 

for  its  length  had  already  declared  against 
it,  unless  it  might  chance  to  be  the  precious 
gem  out  of  a  thousand,  which  must  be  chosen 
in  spite  of  its  twenty  stanzas.  But  as  the 
editor  read,  his  interest  awakened,  and  he 
scanned  the  verses  agah],  as  one  would  turn 
to  look  a  second  time  at  a  face  which  seemed 
familiar.  At  the  fourth  stanza  his  memory 
was  still  in  doubt,  at  the  sixth  it  was  warming 
to  the  chase,  and  at  the  end  of  the  page  was 
in  full  cry.  He  caught  up  the  second  page 
and  looked  for  the  final  verse,  and  then  at 
the  name  below,  and  then  back  again  quickly 
to  the  title  of  the  poem,  and  pushed  aside  the 
papers  on  his  desk  in  search  of  any  note  which 
might  have  accompanied  it. 

The  name  signed  at  the  bottom  of  the 
second  page  was  Edwin  Aram,  the  title  of 
the  poem  was  "  Bohemia,"  and  there  was  no 
accompanying  note,  only  the  name  Berkeley 
written  at  the  top  of  the  first  page.)  The  en 
velope  in  which  it  had  come  gave  no  further 
clew.1  It  was  addressed  in  the  same  hand 
writing  as  that  in  which  the  poem  had  been 
written,  and  it  bore  the  post-mark  of  New 
York  city.  *  There  was  no  request  for  the 
return  of  the  poem,  no  direction  to  which 


78  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

either  the  poem  itself  or  the  check  for  its 
payment  in  the  event  of  its  acceptance  might 
be  sent.  Berkeley  might  be  the  name  of  an 
apartment-house  or  of  a  country  place  or  of 
a  suburban  town. 

The  editor  stepped  out  of  his  office  into 
the  larger  room  beyond  and  said  :  "  I  Ve  a 
poem  here  that  appeared  in  an  American 
magazine  about  seven  years  ago.f  I  remem 
ber  the  date  because  I  read  it  when  I  was  at 
college.  )  Some  one  is  either  trying  to  play  a 
trick  on  us,  or  to  get  money  by  stealing  some 
other  man's  brains." 

It  was  in  this  'way  that^dwin  Aram  first 
introduced  himself  to  our  office,  and  while 
his  poem  was  not  accepted,  it  was  not  re 
turned.  On  the  contrary,  Mr.  Aram  became 
to  us  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  our  would- 
be  contributors,  and  there  was  no  author,  no 
matter  of  what  popularity,  for  whose  work 
we  waited  with  greater  impatience.  /  But  Mr. 
Aram's  personality  still  remained  as  com 
pletely  hidden  from  us  as  were  the  produc 
tions  which  he  offered  from  the  sight  of  our 
subscribers.  For  each  of  the  poems  he  sent 
had  been  stolen  outright  and  signed  with  his 
name. 


THE  EDITORS  STORY  79 

It  was  through  no  fault  of  ours  that  he 
continued  to  blush  unseen,  or  that  his  pretty 
taste  in  poems  was  unappreciated  by  the  gen 
eral  reader.  We  followed  up  every  clew  and 
every  hint  he  chose  to  give  us  with  an  enthu 
siasm  worthy  of  a  search  after  a  lost  explorer, 
and  with  an  animus  worthy  of  better  game. 
Yet  there  was  some  reason  for  our  interest. 
The  man  who  steals  the  work  of  another  and 
who  passes  it  off  as  his  own  is  the  special  foe 
of  every  editor,  but  this  particular  editor  had 
a  personal  distrust  of  Mr.  Aram.  He  im 
agined  that  these  poems  might  possibly  be 
a  trap  which  some  one  had  laid  for  him  with 
the  purpose  of  drawing  him  into  printing 
them,  and  then  of  pointing  out  by  this  fact 
how  little  read  he  was,  and  how  unfit  to 
occupy  the  swivel-chair  into  which  he  had 
so  lately  dropped.  Or  if  this  were  not  the 
case,  the  man  was  in  any  event  the  enemy 
of  all  honest  people,  who  look  unkindly  on 
those  who  try  to  obtain  money  by  false  pre 
tences. 

The  evasions  of  Edwin  Aram  were  many, 
and  his  methods  to  avoid  detection  not  with 
out  skill.  His  second  poem  was  written  on  a 
sheet  of  note-paper  bearing  the  legend  "  The 


80  THE   EDITOR'S  STORY 

Shakespeare  Debating  Club.  Edwin  Aram, 
President." 

This  was  intended  to  reassure  us  as  to  his 
literary  taste  and  standard,  and  to  meet  any 
suspicion  we  might  feel  had  there  been  no 
address  of  any  sort  accompanying  the  poem. 
No  one  we  knew  had  ever  heard  of  a  Shake 
speare  Debating  Club  in  New  York  city.  But 
we  gave  him  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  until  we 
found  that  this  poem,  like  the  first,  was  also 
stolen.  His  third  poem  bore  his  name  and 
an  address,  which  on  instant  inquiry  turned 
out  to  be  that  of  a  vacant  lot  on  Seventh 
Avenue  near  Central  Park. 

Edwin  Aram  had  by  this  time  become  an 
exasperating  and  picturesque  individual,  and 
the  editorial  staff  was  divided  in  its  opinion 
concerning  him/  It  was  argued  on  one  hand 
that  as  the  man  had  never  sent  us  a  real  ad 
dress,  his  object  must  be  to  gain  a  literary 
reputation  at  the  expense  of  certain  poets, 
and  not  to  make  money  at  ours.  Others 
answered  this  by  saying  that  fear  of  detec 
tion  alone  kept  Edwin  Aram  from  sending  his 
real  address,  but  that  as  soon  as  his  poem  was 
printed,  and  he  ascertained  by  that  fact  that 
he  had  not  been  discovered,  he  would  put  in 


THE  EDITORS  STORY  81 

an  application  for  payment,  and  let  us  know 
quickly  enough  to  what  portion  of  New  York 
city  his  check  should  be  forwarded. 

This,  however,  presupposed  the  fact  that 
he  was  writing  to  us  over  his  real  name,  which 
we  did  not  believe  he  would  dare  to  do.  No 
one  in  our  little  circle  of  journalists  and  lite 
rary  men  had  ever  heard  of  such  a  man,  and 
his  name  did  not  appear  in  the  directory. 
This  fact,  however,  was  not  convincing  in  it 
self,  as  the  residents  of  New  York  move  from 
flat  to  hotel,  and  from  apartments  to  boarding- 
houses  as  frequently  as  the  Arab  changes  his 
camping-ground.  ^We  tried  to  draw  him  out 
at  last  by  publishing  a  personal  paragraph 
which  stated  that  several  contributions  re 
ceived  from  Edwin  Aram  would  be  returned 
to  him  if  he  would  send  stamps  and  his  pres 
ent  address.  \  The  editor  did  not  add  that  he 
would  return  the  poems  in  person,  but  such 
was  his  warlike  intention.  .1 

This  had  the  desired  result,  and  brought  us 
a  fourth  poem  and  a  fourth  address,  the  name 
of  a  tall  building  which  towers  above  Union 
Square.  |  We  seemed  to  be  getting  very  warm 
now,  |  and  the  editor  gathered  up  the  four 
poems,  and  called  to  his  aid  his  friend  Bron- 
G 


82  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

son,  the  ablest  reporter  on  the  New  York 

,  who  was  to  act  as  chronicler.  They 

took  with  them  letters  from  the  authors  of 
two  of  the  poems  and  from  the  editor  of  the 
magazine  in  which  the  first  one  had  origi 
nally  appeared,  testifying  to  the  fact  that 
Edwin  Aram  had  made  an  exact  copy  of  the 
original,  and  wishing  the  brother  editor  good 
luck  in  catching  the  plagiarist. 

The  reporter  looked  these  over  with  a  criti 
cal  eye.  "  The  City  Editor  told  me  if  we 
caught  him,"  he  said,  "  that  I  could  let  it 
run  for  all  it  was  worth.  I  can  use  these 
names,  I  suppose,  and  I  guess  they  have  pic 
tures  of  the  poets  at  the  office.  If  he  turns 
out  to  be  anybody  in  particular,  it  ought  to 
be  worth  a  full  three  columns.  Sunday  paper, 
too." 

The  amateur  detectives  stood  in  the  lower 
hall  in  the  tall  building,  [between  swinging 
doors,  and  jostled  by  hurrying  hundreds,  while 
they  read  the  names  on  a  marble  directory,  j 

"  There  he  is!"  said  the  editor,  excitedly. 
"  '  American  Literary  Bureau.'  One  room  on 
the  fourteenth  floor.  That 's  just  the  sort 
of  a  place  in  which  we  would  be  likely  to  find 
him."  But  the  reporter  was  gazing  open-eyed 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  83 

at  a  name  in  large  letters  on  an  office  door. 
"  Edward  K.  Aram,"  it  read,  "  Commissioner 
ofYM^and  City  — ." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  he  gasped, 
triumphantly. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  editor.  "  He  would  n't 
dare ;  besides,  the  initials  are  different.  You  're 
expecting  too  good  a  story." 

"  That 's  the  way  to  get  them/'  answered 
the  reporter,  as  he  hurried  towards  the  office 
of  the  City .  "  If  a  man  falls  dead,  be 
lieve  it's  a  suicide  until  you  prove  it's  not; 
if  you  find  a  suicide,  believe  it 's  a  murder 
until  you  are  convinced  to  the  contrary.  Other 
wise  you  '11  get  beaten.  We  don't  want  the 
proprietor  of  a  little  literary  bureau,  we  want 
a  big  city  official  and  I'll  believe  we  have  one 
until  he  proves  we  have  n't." 

"  Which  are  you  going  to  ask  for?"  whis 
pered  the  editor,  "  Edward  K.  or  Edwin  ?" 

"  Edwin,  I  should  say,"/  answered  the  re 
porter.     "  He  lias  probably  given  notice  that 
mail  addressed  that  way  should  go  to  him." 
^J^la  Mr.  Edwin  Aram  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

A  clerk  raised  his  head  and  looked  behind 
v  him.     "  No,"   he  said  ;    "  his  desk  is  closed. 
I  guess  he  's  gone  home  for  the  day." 


84  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

The  reporter  nudged  the   editor  savagely  j 
with  his  elbow,  but  his  face   gave  no  sign. 


"  That 's  a  pity,"  he  sakj, ;  "  we  have  an  ap 
pointment  with  himty/'  He  still  lives  at  Sixty- 
first  Street  and  Madison  Avenue,  I  believe, 
does  he  not  ? " 

" No,"  said  the  clerk;  "that's  his  father, 
the  Commissioner,  Edward  K.  The  son  lives 

at  .     Take   the    Sixth  Avenue   elevated 

and  get  off  at  116th  Street." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  reporter^  He  turned 
a  triumphant  smile  upon  the  editor,/  "  We  've 
got  him  !  "  he  said,  excitedly.  "  And  the  son 
of  old  Edward  K.,  too!  Think  of  it!  Try 
ing  to  steal  a  few  dollars  by  cribbing  other 
men's  poems  ;  that 's  the  best  story  there  has 
been  in  the  papers  for  the  past  three  months, 
—  'Edward  K.  Aram's  son  a  thiefj)'  (Look 
at  the  names  —  politicians,  poets,  editors,  all 
mixed  up  in  it.  It 's  good  for  three  col 
umns,  sure." 

"  We  Ve  got  to  think  of  his  people,  too," 
[..  urged  the  editor,  as  they  mounted  the  steps 
of  the  elevated  road. 

"He  didn't  think  of  them,"  said  the  re 
porter. 
. i  The  house  in  which  Mr.  Aram  lived  was  an 


THE  EDITORS  STORY  85 

apartment-house,  and  the  brass  latchets  in  the 
hallway  showed  that  it  contained  three  suites. 
There  were  visiting-cards  under  the  latchets 
of  the  first  and  third  stories,  and  under  that 
of  the  second  a  piece  of  note-paper  on  which 
was  written  the  autograph  of  Edwin  Aram. 
The  editor  looked  at  it  curiously.  He  had 
never  believed  it  to  be  a  real  name. 

"  I  am  sorry  Edwin  Aram  did  not  turn 
out  to  be  a  woman,"  he  said,  regretfully ; 
"it  would  have  been  so  much  more  inter 
esting." 

X"Now,"  instructed  Broiison,  impressively, 
"  whether  he  is  in  or  not  we  have  him.  If 
he  's  not  in,  we  wait  until  he  comes,  even  if 
he  does  n't  come  until  morning ;  we  don't 
leave  this  place  until  we  have  seen  him." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  editor. 
V  The  maid  left  them  standing  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs  while  she  went  to  ask  if  Mr.  Aram 
was  in^  and  whether  he  would  see  two  gentle 
men  who  did  not  give  their  names  because 
they  were  strangers  to  him.  The  two  stood 
silent  while  they  waited,  eying  each  other 
anxiously,  and  when  the  girl  reopened  the 
door,  nodded  pleasantly,  and  said,  "  Yes,  Mr. 
Aram  is  in,"  they  hurried  past  her  as  though 


86  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

they  feared  that  he  would  disappear  in  mid- 
airl  or  float  away  through  the  windows  before 
they  could  reach  him. 

And  yet,  when  they  stood  at  last  face  to 
face  with  him,  he  bore  a  most  disappointing- 
air  of  every-day  respectability.  He  was  a  tall, 
thin  young  man,  with  light  hair  and  mustache 
and  large  blue  eyes.)  His  back  was  towards 
the  window,  so  that  his  face  was  in  the  shadow, 
and  he  did  not  rise  as  they  entered.  The 
room  in  which  he  sat  was  a  prettily  furnished 
one,  opening  into  another  tiny  room,  which, 
from  the  number  of  books  in  it,  might  have 
been  called  a  library.  The  rooms  had  a  well- 
to-do,  even  prosperous,  air,  but  they  did  not 
show  any  evidences  of  a  pronounced  taste  on 
the  part  of  their  owner,  either  in  the  way  in 
which  they  were  furnished  or  in  the  decora 
tions  of  the  walls.  A  little  girl  of  about 
seven  or  eight  years  of  age,  who  was  stand 
ing  between  her  father's  knees,  with  a  hand 
on  each,  and  with  her  head  thrown  back  on 
his  shoulder,  looked  up  at  the  two  visitors 
with  evident  interest,  and  smiled  brightly. 

"  Mr.  Aram  ? "  asked  the  editor,  tenta 
tively. 

The  young  man  nodded,  and  the  two  visit 
ors  seated  themselves. 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  87 

"  I  wish  to  talk  to  you  on  a  matter  of  pri 
vate  business,"  the  editor  began.  "  Would  n't 
it  be  better  to  send  the  little  girl  away  ?" 

The  child  shook  her  head  violently  at  this, 
and  crowded  up  closely  to  her  father ;  but  he 
held  her  away  from  him  gently,  and  Jold  her 
to  "  run  and  play  with  Annie." 

She  passed  the  two  visitors,  with  her  head 
held  scornfully  in  air,  and  left  the  men  to 
gether.  Mr.  Aram  seemed  to  have  a  most 
passive  and  incurious  disposition.  He  could 
have  no  idea  as  to  who  his  anonymous  visit 
ors  might  be,  nor  did  he  show  any  desire  to 
know. 

"  I  am  the  editor  of ,"  the  editor  began. 

"  My  friend  also  writes  for  that  periodical.  I 
have  received  several  poems  from  you  lately, 
Mr.  Aram,  and  one  in  particular  which  we  all 
liked  very  much.  It  was  called  '  Bohemia.' 
But  it  is  so  like  one  that  has  appeared  under 
the  same  title  in  the  '-fa^ Magazine'  that  I 
thought  I  would  see  you  about  it,  and  ask 
you  if  you  could  explain  the  similarity./  You 
see,"  he  went  on, "  it  would  be  less  embar 
rassing  if  you  would  do  so  now  than  later, 
when  the  poem  has  been  published  and 
when  people  might  possibly  accuse  you  of 


88  THE  EDITORS  STORY 

plagiarism."  The  editor  smiled  encourag 
ingly  and  waited. 

Mr.  Aram  crossed  one  leg  over  the  other 
and  folded  his  hands  in  his  lap.  /  He  ex 
hibited  no  interest,  and  looked  drowsily  at 
the  editor.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  tone 
of  unstudied  indifference;  |/"  I  never  wrote  a 
poem  called  '  Bohemia,'  "  he  said,  slowly  ;  "  at 
least,  if  I  did  I  don't  remember  it." 

The  editor  had  not  expected  a  flat  denial, 
and  it  irritated  him,  for  he  recognized  it  to  be 
the  safest  course  the  man  could  pursue,  if  lie 
kept  to  it.  "  But  you  don't  mean  to  say," 
he  protested,  smiling,  "  that  you  can  write  so 
excellent  a  poem  as  '  Bohemia '  and  then  for 
get  having  done  so  ?  " 

["  I  might,"  said  Mr. -.Argun,  unresentfully, 
and  with  little  interest J^Ji  I  scribble  a  good 
deal." 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  the  reporter,  politely, 
with  the  air  of  one  who  is  trying  to  cover  up 
a  difficulty  to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  "  Mr. 
Aram  would  remember  it  if  he  saw  it." 

The  editor  nodded  his  head  in  assent,  and 
took  the  first  page  of  the  two  on  which  the 
poem  was  written,  and  held  it  out  to  Mr. 
Aram,  who  accepted  the  piece  of  foolscap  and 
eyed  it  listlessly. 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  89 

"  Yes,  I  wrote  that,"  he  said.  "  I  copied  it 
out  of  a  book  called  Gems  from  American 
Poets."  There  was  a  lazy  pause.  "  But  I 
never  sent  it  to  any  paper."  The  editor  and 
the  reporter  eyed  each  other  with  outward 
calm  but  with  some  inward  astonishment. 
They  could  not  see  why  he  had  not  adhered 
to  his  original  denial  of  the  thing  in  toto.  It 
seemed  to  them  so  foolish  to  admit  having 
copied  the  poem  and  then  to  deny  having 
forwarded  it. 

14  You  see,"  explained  Mr.  Aram,  still  with 
no  apparent  interest  in  the  matter,  "  I  am 
very  fond  of  poetry ;  I  like  to  recite  it,  and  I 
often  write  it  out  in  order  to  make  me  re 
member  it.  I  find  it  impresses  the  words  on 
my  mind.  Well,  that's  what  has  happened. 
I  have  copied  this  poem  out  at  the  office  prob 
ably,  and  one  of  the  clerks  there  has  found 
it,  and  has  supposed  that  I  wrote  it,  and  he 
has  sent  it  to  your  paper  as  a  sort  of  a  joke 
on  me.  f  You  see,  father  being  so  well-known, 
it  would  rather  amuse  the  boys  if  I  came 
out  as  a  poet.  That 's  how  it  was,  I  guess. 
Somebody  must  have  found  it  and  sent  it  to 
you,  because  /never  sent  it." 

There  was  a  moment  of  thoughtful  consid- 


90  THE  EDITORS  STORY 

eration.  "  I  see,"  said  the  editor.  "  I  used 
to  do  that  same  thing  myself  when  I  had  to 
recite  pieces  at  school.  I  found  that  writing 
the  verses  down  helped  me  to  remember  them. 
I  remember  that  I  once  copied  out  many  of 
Shakespeare's  sonnets.  But,  Mr,  Aram,  it 
never  occurred  to  me,  after  having  copied  out 
one  of  Shakespeare's  sonnets,  to  sign  my  own 
name  at  the  bottom  of  it." 

Mr.  Aram's  eyes  dropped  to  the  page  of 
manuscript  in  his  hand  and  rested  there  for 
some  little  time.  Then  he  said,  without  rais 
ing  his  head,  "  I  have  n't  signed  this." 

"  No,"  replied  the  editor ;  "  but  you  signed 
the  second  page,  which  I  still  have  in  my 
hand." 

The  editor  arid  his  companion  expected 
some  expression  of  indignation  from  Mr. 
Aram  at  this,  some  question  of  their  right  to 
come  into  his  house  and  cross-examine  him 
and  to  accuse  him,  tentatively  at  least,  of 
literary  fraud,  but  they  were  disappointed. 
Mr.  Aram's  manner  .was  still  one  of  absolute 
impassibility.  Whether  this  manner  was 
habitual  to  him  they  could  not  know,  but  it 
made  them  doubt  their  own  judgment  in  hav 
ing  so  quickly  accused  him,  as  it  bore  the  look 
of  undismayed  innocence. 


THE  EDITORS  STORY  91 

It  was  the  reporter  who  was  the  first  to 
break  the  silence.  "  Perhaps  some  one  has 
signed  Mr.  Aram's  name  —  the  clerk  who 
sent  it,  for  instance." 

Young  Mr.  Aram  looked  up  at  him  cur 
iously,  and  held  out  his  hand  for  the  second 
page.  "  Yes,"  he  drawled,  "  that 's  how  it 
happened.  That 's  not  my  signature.  I  never 
signed  that." 

The  editor  was  growing  restless.  "  I  have 
several  other  poems  here  from  you,"  lie  said  ; 
"  one  written  from  the  rooms  of  the  Shakes 
peare  Debating  Club,  of  which  I  see  you  are 
president.  Your  clerk  could  not  have  ac 
cess  there,  could  he  ?  He  did  not  write  that, 
too?" 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Aram,  doubtfully,  «*  he 
could  not  have  written  that." 

The  editor  handed  him  the  poem.  "  It 's 
yours,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  mine,"  Mr.  Aram  replied. 

"  And  the  signature  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  the  signature.  I  wrote  that  my 
self,"  Mr.  Aram  explained,  "  and  sent  it 
myself.  That  other  one  ('  Bohemia ')  I  just 
copied  out  to  remember,  but  this  is  original 
with  me." 


92  THE  EDITORS  STORY 

"  And  the  envelope  in  which  it  was  en 
closed,"  asked  the  editor,  "  did  you  address 
that  also  ? " 

Mr.  Aram  examined  it  uninterestedly. 
"  Yes,  that 's  my  handwriting  too."  He 
raised  his  head.  His  face  wore  an  expression 
of  patient  politeness. 

"  Oh  !  "  exclaimed  the  editor,  suddenly,  in 
some  embarrassment.  "  I  handed  you  the 
wrong  envelope.  I  beg  your  pardon.  That 
envelope  is  the  one  in  which  4  Bohemia ' 
came." 

The  reporter  gave  a  hardly  perceptible 
start ;  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  pattern  of 
the  rug  at  his  feet,  and  the  editor  con 
tinued  to  examine  the  papers  in  his  hand. 
There  was  a  moment's  silence.  From  out 
side  came  the  noise  of  children  playing  in  the 
street  and  the  rapid  rush  of  a  passing 
wagon. 

When  the  two  visitors  raised  their  heads 
Mr.  Aram  was  looking  at  them  strangely,  and 
the  fingers  folded  in  his  lap  were  twisting  in 
and  out. 

"  This  Shakespeare  Debating  Club,"  said 
the  editor,  "  where  are  its  rooms,  Mr.  Aram  ?  " 

"  It  has  no  rooms,  now,"  answered  the  poet. 


THE   EDITOR'S  STORY  93 

"  It  has  disbanded.  It  never  had  any  regular 
rooms  ;  we  just  met  about  and  read." 

"  I  see  —  exactly,"  said  the  editor.  "  And 
the  house  on  Seventh  Avenue  from  which 
your  third  poem  was  sent  —  did  you  reside 
there  then,  or  have  you  always  lived  here  ?" 

"No,  yes  —  I  used  to  live  there  —  I  lived 
there  when  I  wrote  that  poem." 

The  editor  looked  at  the  reporter  and 
back  at  Mr.  Aram.  "  It  is  a  vacant  lot,  Mr. 
Aram,"  he  said,  gravely. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  poet  rocked 
slowly  up  and  down  in  his  rocking-chair, 
and  looked  at  his  hands,  which  he  rubbed 
over  one  another  as  though  they  were  cold. 
Then  he  raised  his  head  and  cleared  his 
throat. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  you  have 
made  out  your  case." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  editor,  regretfully,  "  we 
have  made  out  our  case."  He  could  not  help 
but  wish  that  the  fellow  had  stuck  to  his 
original  denial.  It  was  too  easy  a  victory. 

"  I  don't  say,  mind  you,"  went  on  Mr. 
Aram,  "  that  I  ever  took  anybody's  verses  and 
sent  them  to  a  paper  as  my  own,  but  I  ask 
you,  as  one  gentleman  talking  to  another, 


94  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

and  inquiring  for  information,  what  is  there 
wrong  in  doing  it  ?  I  say,  if  I  had  done  it, 
which  I  don't  admit  I  ever  did,  where 's  the 
harm?" 

"  Where 's  the  harm  ? "  cried  the  two  vis 
itors  in  chorus. 

"  Obtaining  money  under  false  pretences," 
said  the  editor,  "  is  the  harm  you  do  the  pub 
lishers,  and  robbing  another  man  of  the  work 
of  his  brain  and  what  credit  belongs  to  him 
is  the  harm  you  do  him,  and  telling  a  lie  is 
the  least  harm  done.  Such  a  contemptible 
foolish  lie,  too,  that  you  might  have  known 
would  surely  find  you  out  in  spite  of  the 
trouble  you  took  to  —  " 

"  I  never  asked  you  for  any  money,"  inter 
rupted  Mr.  Aram,  quietly. 

"  But  we  would  have  sent  it  to  you,  never 
theless,"  retorted  the  editor,  "  if  we  had  not 
discovered  in  time  that  the  poems  were 
stolen." 

"  Where  would  you  have  sent  it  ? "  asked 
Mr.  Aram.  "  I  never  gave  you  a  right  ad 
dress,  did  I  ?  I  ask  you,  did  I  ?  " 

The  editor  paused  in  some  confusion. 
"  Well,  if  you  did  not  want  the  money,  what 
did  you  want  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  u  I  must  say 
I  should  like  to  know." 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  95 

Mr.  Aram  rocked  himself  to  and  fro,  and 
gazed  at  his  two  inquisitors  with  troubled 
eyes,  r  I  did  n't  see  any  harm  in  it  then,"  he 
repeated.  "  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  it  now. 
I  did  n't  ask  you  for  any  money.  I  sort  of 
thought,"  lie  said,  confusedly,  "  that  I'  should 
like  to  see  my  name  in  print.  I  wanted  my 
friends  to  see  it.  I  'd  have  liked  to  have 
shown  it  to —  to  —  well,  I'd  like  my  wife  to 
have  seen  it.  She's  interested  in  literature 
and  books  and  magazines  and  things  like 
that.  That  was  all  I  wanted.  That 's  why  I 
did  it." 

The  reporter  looked  up  askance  at  the  edi 
tor,  as  a  prompter  watches  the  actor  to  see  if 
he  is  ready  to  take  his  cue. 

"  How  do  I  know  that  ? "  demanded  the 
editor,  sharply.  He  found  it  somewhat  diffi 
cult  to  be  severe  with  this  poet,  for  the  man 
admitted  so  much  so  readily,  and  would  not 
defend  himself.  Had  he  only  blustered  and 
grown  angry  and  ordered  them  out,  instead 
of  sitting  helplessly  there  rocking  to  and  fro 
and  picking  at  the  back  of  his  hands,  it  would 
have  made  it  so  much  easier.  "  How  do  we 
know,"  repeated  the  qditor,  "  that  you  did  not 
intend  to  wait  until  the  poems  had  appeared, 


96  THE  EDITORS  STORY 

and  then  send  us  your  real  address  and  ask 
for  the  money,  saying  that  you  had  moved 
since  you  had  last  written  us  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  protested  Mr.  Aram,  "  you  know  I 
never  thought  of  that." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  of  the  sort,"  said 
the  editor.  "  I  only  know  that  you  have 
forged  and  lied  and  tried  to  obtain  money 
that  does  n't  belong  to  you,  and  that  I  mean 
to  make  an  example  of  you  and  frighten 
other  men  from  doing  the  same  thing.  No 
editor  has  read  every  poem  that  was  ever 
written,  and  there  is  no  protection  for  him 
from  such  fellows  as  you,  and  the  only  thing 
he  can  do  when  he  does  catch  one  of  you  is  to 
make  an  example  of  him.  That 's  what  I  am 
going  to  do.  I  am  going  to  make  an  example 
of  you.  I  am  going  to  nail  you  up  as  people 
nail  up  dead  crows  to  frighten  off  the  live 
ones,  jit  is  my  intention  to  give  this  to  the 
papers  to-night,  and  you  know  what  they  will 
do  with  it  in  the  morning."  I 

There  was  a  long  and  most  uncomfortable 
pause,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  the  editor  did  not 
feel  it  as  much  as  did  the  man  opposite  him. 
The  editor  turned  to  his  friend  for  a  glance 
of  sympathy,  or  of  disapproval  even,  but 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  97 

that  gentleman  still  sat  bending  forward 
with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  while  he 
tapped  with  the  top  of  his  cane  against  his 
teeth. 

"  You  don't  mean,"  said  Mr.  Aram,  in  a 
strangely  different  voice  from  which  he  had 
last  spoken,  "  that  you  would  do  that  ? " 

"Yes,  I  do,"  blustered  the  editor.  But 
even  as  he  spoke  he  was  conscious  of  a  sin 
cere  regret  that  he  had  not  come  alone.  He 
could  intuitively  feel  Bronson  mapping  out 
the  story  in  his  mind  and  memorizing  Aram's 
every  word,  and  taking  mental  notes  of  the 
framed  certificates  of  high  membership  in 
different  military  and  masonic  associations 
which  hung  upon  the  walls.  It  had  not  been 
long  since  the  editor  was  himself  a  reporter, 
and  he  could  see  that  it  was  as  good  a  story 
as  Bronson  could  wish  it  to  be.  But  he 
reiterated,  "  Yes,  I  mean  to  give  it  to  the 
papers  to-night." 

"But  think,"  said  Aram  — "think,  sir, 
who  I  am.  You  don't  want  to  ruin  me  for 
the  rest  of  my  life  just  for  a  matter  of  fifteen 
dollars,  do  you?)  Fifteen  dollars  that  no  one 
has  lost,  either.  If  I  'd  embezzled  a  million 
or  so,  or  if  I  had  robbed  the  city,  well  and 

7 


98  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

good!  I'd  have  taken  big  risks  for  big 
money ;  but  you  are  going  to  punish  me  just 
as  hard,  because  I  tried  to  please  my  wife,  as 
though  I  had  robbed  a  mint.  No  one  has 
really  been  hurt,"  he  pleaded  ;  "  the  men  who 
wrote  the  poems  —  they  've  been  paid  for 
them ;  they  've  got  all  the  credit  for  them 
they  can  get.  You  've  not  lost  a  cent.  I  've 
gained  nothing  by  it ;  and  yet  you  gentlemen 
are  going  to  give  this  thing  to  the  papers, 
and,  as  you  say,  sir,  we  know  what  they  will 
make  of  it.  What  with  my  being  my  father's 
son,  and  all  that,  my  father  is  going  to  suffer. 
My  family  is  going  to  suffer.  It  will  ruin 
me  —  " 

The  editor  put  the  papers  back  into  his 
pocket.  If  Bronson  had  not  been  there  he 
might  possibly  instead  have  handed  them 
over  to  Mr.  Aram,  and  this  story  would  never 
have  been  written.  But  he  could  not  do  that 
now.  Mr.  Aram's  affairs  had  become  the 
property  of  the  New  York  newspaper. 

He  turned  to  his  friend  doubtfully.  "  What 
do  you  think,  Bronson  ?  "  he  asked. 

At  this  sign  of  possible  leniency  Aram 
ceased  in  his  rocking  and  sat  erect,  with  eyes 
wide  open  and  fixed  on  Bronson's  face.  But 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  99 

the  latter  trailed  his  stick  over  the  rug 
heneath  his  feet  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Mr.  Aram,"  he  said,  u  might  have  thought 
of  his  family  and  his  father  before  he  went 
into  this  business.  It  is  rather  late  now. 
But,"  he  added,  "  I  don't  think  it  is  a  matter 
we  can  decide  in  any  event.  It  should  be  left 
to  the  firm." 

u:5fe?'  said  the  editor,  hurriedly,  glad  of 
the  excuse  to  temporize,  f  we  must  leave  it  to 
thehouse."  But  he  read  Bronson's  answer 
to  mean  that  he  did  not  intend  to  let  the 
plagiarist  escape,  and  he  knew  that  even  were 
Bronson  willing  to  do  so,  there  was  still  his 
City  Editor  to  be  persuaded. 

The  two  men  rose  and  stood  uncomfort 
ably,  shifting  their  hats  in  their  hands  — and 
avoiding  each  other's  eyes.  Mr.  Aram  stood 
up  also,  and  seeing  that  his  last  chance  had 
come,  began  again  to  plead  desperately. 

"  What  good  would  fifteen  dollars  do  me  ?" 
he  said,  with  a  gesture  of  his  hands  round 
the  room.  "  I  don't  have  to  look  for  money 
as  hard  as  that  I  tell  you,"  he  reiterated, 
"  it  was  n't  the  money  I  wanted.  I  did  n't 
mean  any  harm.  I  didn't  know  it  was 
wrong.  I  just  wanted  to  please  my  wife  — 


100  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 


that  was  all.  My  God,  man,  can't  you  see 
that  you  are  punishing  me  out  of  all  pro 
portion  ? "  .^- 

The  visitors  walked  towards  the  door,  and 
he  followed  them,  talking  the  faster  as  they 
drew  near  to  it.  The  scene  had  become  an 
exceedingly  painful  one,  and  they  were 
anxious  to  bring  it  to  a  close. 

The  editor  interrupted  him.  "  We  will  let 
you  know,"  he  said,  "  what  we  have  decided 
to  do  by  to-morrow  morning." 

"  You  mean,"  retorted  the  man,  hopelessly 
and  reproachfully,  "  that  I  will  read  it  in  the 
Sunday  papers." 

Before  the  editor  could  answer  they  heard 
the  door  leading  into  the  apartment  open  and 
close,  and  some  one  stepping  quickly  across 
the  hall  to  the  room  in  which  they  stood, 
entrance  to  the  room  was  hung  with  a 
portiere,  and  as  the  three  men  paused  in 
silence  this  portiere  was  pushed  back,  and  a 
young  lady  stood  in  the  doorway,  holding  the 
curtains  apart  with  her  two  hands.  She  was 
smiling,  and  the  smile  lighted  a  face  that  was 
inexpressibly  bright  and  honest  and  true.  \ 
Aram's  face  had  been  lowered,  but  the  eyes 
of  the  other  two  men  were  staring  wide  open 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  101 

towards  the  unexpected  figure,  which  seemed 
to  bring  a  taste  of  fresh  pure  air  into  the 
feverish  atmosphere  of  the  place.  The  girl 
stopped  uncertainly  when  she  saw  the  two 
strangers,  and  bowed  her  head  slightly  fas  the 
mistress  of  a  house  might  welcome  any  one 
whom  she  found  in  her  drawing-room.  She 
was  entirely  above  and  apart  from  her  sur 
roundings.  It  was  not  only  that  she  was 
exceedingly  pretty,  but  that  everything  about 
her,  from  her  attitude  to  her  cloth  walking- 
dress,  was  significant  of  good  taste  and  high 
breeding. 

She  paused  uncertainly,  still  smiling,  and 
with  her  gloved  hands  holding  back  the  cur 
tains  and  looking  at  Aram  with  eyes  filled 
with  a  kind  confidence.  She  was  apparently 
waiting  for  him  to  present  his  friends. 

The  editor  made  a  sudden  but  irrevocable 
resolve.  "  If  she  is  only  a  chance  visitor," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  I  will  still  expose  him ; 
but  if  that  woman  in  the  doorway  is  his  wife, 
I  will  push  Bronson  under  the  elevated  train, 
and  the  secret  will  die  with  me." 

What  Bronson's  thoughts  were  he  could 
not  know,  but  he  was  conscious  that  his  friend 
had  straightened  his  broad  shoulders  and  was 
holding  his  head  erect. 


102  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 

Aram  raised  his  face,  but.  he  did  not  look 
at  the  woman  in  the  door,  "  In  a  minute, 
dear,"  he  said ;  "  I  am  busy  with  these 
gentlemen." 

The  girl  gave  a  little  u  oh "  of  apology, 
smiled  at  her  husband's  bent  head,  inclined 
her  own  again  slightly  to  the  other  men,  and 
let  the  portiere  close  behind  her.  It  had  been 
as  dramatic  an  entrance  and  exit  as  the  two 
visitors  had  ever  seen  upon  the  stagel  It 
was  as  if  Aram  had  given  a  signal,  and  the 
only  person  who  could  help  him  had  come  in 
the  nick  of  time  to  plead  for  him.  Aram, 
stupid  as  he  appeared  to  be,  had  evidently 
felt  the  effect  his  wife's  appearance  had  made 
upon  his  judges.  He  still  kept  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  floor,  but  he  said,  and  this  time  with 
more  confidence  in  his  tone  : 

u  It  is  not,  gentlemen,  as  though  I  were  an 
old  man.  I  have  so  very  long  to  live  —  so 
long  to  try  to  live  this  down.  Why,  I  am  as 
young  as  you  are.  How  would  you  like  to 
have  a  thing  like  this  to  carry  with  you  till 
you  died  ? " 

The  editor  still  stood  staring  blankly  at  the 
curtains  through  which  Mr.  Aram's  good 
angel,  for  whom  he  had  lied  and  cheated  in 


THE  EDITOR'S  STORY  103 

order  to  gain  credit  in  her  eyes,  had  disap 
peared.  He  pushed  them  aside  with  his  stick. 
"  We  will  let  you  know  to-morrow  morning," 
he  repeated,  and  the  two  men  passed  out  from 
the  poet's  presence,  and  on  into  the  hall. 
They  descended  the  stairs  in  an  uncomfort 
able  silence,  Bronson  leading  the  way,  and 
the  editor  endeavoring  to  read  his  verdict  by 
the  back  of  his  head  and  shoulders. 

At  the  foot  of  the  steps  he  pulled  his  friend 
by  the  sleeve.  "  Bronson,"  he  coaxed,  "  you 
are  not  going  to  use  It,  are  you  ? " 

Bronson  turned  on  him  savagely.  "  For 
Heaven's  sake ! "  he  protested,  "  what  do  you 
think  I  am ;  did  you  see  her?" 

So  the  New  York  lost  a  very  good 

story,  and  Bronson  a  large  sum  of  money  for 
not  writing  it,  and  Mr.  Aram  was  taught  a 
lesson,  and  his  young  wife's  confidence  in  him 
remained  unshaken.  |  The  editor  and  reporter 
dined  together  that  night,  and  over  their  cigars 
decided  with  sudden  terror  that  Mr.  Aram 
might,  in  his  ignorance  of  their  good  inten 
tions  concerning  him,  blow  out  his  brains,  and 
for  nothing.  So  they  despatched  a  messenger- 
hoy  up  town  in  post-haste  with  a  note  saying 
that  "  the  firm"  had  decided  to  let  the  matter 


104  THE  EDITOR'S  STORY 


drop,  j  Although,  perhaps,  it  would  have  been 
better  to  have  given  him  one  sleepless  night 
at  least. 

That  was  three  years  ago,  and  since  then 
Mr.  Aram's  father  has  fallen  out  with  Tam 
many,  and  has  been  retired  from  public  service. 
Bronson  has  been  sent  abroad  to  represent  the 
United  States  at  a  foreign  court,  and  has  asked 
the  editor  to  write  the  story  that  he  did  not 
write,  but  with  such  changes  in  the  names  of 
people  and  places  that  no  one  save  Mr.  Aram 
may  know  who  Mr.  Aram  really  was  and  is. 

This  the  editor  has  done,  reporting  what 
happened  as  faithfully  as  he  could,  and  in  the 
hope  that  it  will  make  an  interesting  story  in 
spite  of  the  fact,  and  not  on  account  of  the 
fact,  that  it  is  a  true  one. 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 


GUIDO  stood  on  the  curb-stone  in  Fourteenth 
Street,  between  :Fifth  Avenue  and  Sixth  Ave 
nue,  with  a  row  of  plaster  figures  drawn  up  on 
the  sidewalk  in  front  of  him.  It  was  snowing, 
and  they  looked  cold  in  consequence,  especially 
the  Night  and  Morning.  A  line  of  men  and 
boys  stretched  on  either  side  of  Guido  all  along 
the  curb-stone,  with  toys  and  dolls,  and  guns 
that  shot  corks  into  the  air  with  a  loud  report, 
and  glittering  dressings  for  the  Christmas 
trees.  It  was  the  day  before  Christmas.  The 
man  who  stood  next  in  line  to  Guido  had  hid 
eous  black  monkeys  that  danced  from  the  end 
of  a  rubber  string.y^Chajnan  danced  up  and 
down  too,  very  much,  so  Guido  thought,  a* the 
monkeys  did,  and  stamped  his  feet  on  the  icy 
pavement,  and  shouted :  "  Here  yer  are,  lady, 
for  five  cents.  Take  them  home  to  the  chil 
dren."  There  were  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  ladies  and  little  girls  crowding  by  all  of  the 


106  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

time ;  some  of  them  were  a  little  cross  and  a 
little  tired,  as  if  Christinas  shopping  had 
told  on  their  nerves,  but  the  greater  number 
were  happy-looking  arid  warm,  and  some 
stopped  and  laughed  at  the  monkeys  dancing 
on  the  rubber  strings,  and  at  the  man  with 
the  frost  on  his  mustache,  who  jumped  too, 
and  cried,  "  Only  five  cents,  lady  —  nice 
Christmas  presents  for  the  children." 
\/  Sometimes  tfee.  ladies  bought  the  monkeys, 
but  no  one  looked  at  the  cold  plaster  figures  of 
St.  Joseph,  and  Diana,  and  Night  and  Morn 
ing,  nor  at  the  heads  of  Mars  and  Minerva  — 
not  even  at  the  figure  of  the  Virgin,  with  her 
two  hands  held  out,  which  Guido  pressed  in 
his  arms  against  his  breast. 

Guido  had  been  in  New  York  city  just  one 
month.  He  was  very  young  —  so  young  that 
he  had  never"  tlone  anything  at  home  but  sit 
on  the  wharves  and  watch  the  ships  come  in 
and  out  of  the  great  harbor  of  Genoa.  He 
never  had  wished  to  depart  with  these  ships 
when  they  sailed  away,  nor  wondered  greatly 
as  to  where  they  went.  He  was  content  with 
the  wharves  and  with  the  narrow  streets  near 
by,  and-  to  look  up  from  the  bulkheads  at  the 
sailors  working  in  the  rigging,  and  the  'long- 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  107 

shoremen  rolling  the  casks  on  board,  or  lower 
ing  great  square  boxes  into  the  holds. 

He  would  have  liked,  could  he  have  had  his 
way,  to  live  so  for  the  rest  of  his  life ;  but 
they  would  not  let  him  have  his  way,  and 
coaxed  him  on  a  ship  to  go  to  the  New  World 
to  meet  his  uncle.  He  was  not  a  real  uncle, 
but  only  a  make-believe  one,  to  satisfy  those 
who  objected  to  assisted  immigrants,  and  who 
wished  to  be  assured  against  having  to  support 
Guido,  and  others  like  him.  But  they  were 
not  half  so  anxious  to  keep  Guido  at  home  as 
he  himself  was  to  stay  there. 

The  new  uncle  met  him  at  Ellis  Island,  and 
embraced  him  affectionately,  and  put  him  in 
an  express  wagon,  and  drove  him  with  a  great 
many  more  of  his  countrymen  to  where  Mul 
berry  Street  makes  a  bend  and  joins  Hester. 
And  in  the  Bend  Guuje  found  thousands  of 
his  fellows  sleeping  twenty  in  a  room  and 
over-crowded  into  the  streetVsome  who  had 
but  just  arrived,  and  others  whol^^d  already 
learned  ta  swear  in  English,  and  fiad  their 
street-cleaning  badges  and  their  peddler's  li 
censes,  to  show  that  they  had  not  been  over 
looked  by  the  kindly  society  of  Tammany, 
which  sees  that  no  free  and  independent  voter 
shall  go  unrewarded. 


108  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

New  York  affected  Guido  like  a  bad  dream. 
It  was  cold  and  muddy,  and  the  snow  when  it 
fell  turned  to  mud  so  quickly  that  Guido  be 
lieved  they  were  one  and  the  same.  He  did 
not  dare  to  think  of  the  place  he  knew  as  home. 
And  the  sight  of  the  colored  advertisements  of 
the  steamship  lines  that  hung  in  the  windows 
of  the  Italian  bankers  hurt  him  as  the  sound 
of  traffic  on  the  street  cuts  to  the  heart  of  a 
prisoner  in  the  Tombs.  Many  of  his  country 
men  bade  good-by  to  Mulberry^Sfreet  and 
sailed  away  ;  but  they  had  grown  rich  through 
obeying  the  pad  rones,  and  working  night  and 
morning  sweeping  the  .Avenue  uptown,  and  by 
living  on  the  refuse  from  the  scows  at  Canal 
Street.  Guido  never  hoped  to  grow  rich,  and 
no  one  stopped  to  buy  his  uncle's  wares. 

The  electric  lights  came  out,  and  still  the 
crowd  passed  and  thronged  before  him,  and 
the  snow  fell  and  left  no  mark  on  the  white 
figures.  Guklp  was  growing  cold,  and  the 
bustle  of  the  moving  hundreds  which  had 
entertained  him  earlier  in  thef  day  had  ceased 
to  interest  him,  and  his'  amusement  had  given 
place  to  the  fear  Chat  no  oite^pf  them  would 
ever  stop,  and  that  he  would  return  to  his 
uncle  empty-handed.  He  was  hungry  now,  as 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  109 

well  as  cold,  a»tH,liuu»li  there  was  tiefc -much, 
rich  food  in  the  Bend  at  any  time,  to-day  he 
had  had  nothing  of  any  quality  to  eat  since 
early  morning.  The  man  with  the  monkeys 
turned  his  head  from  tiipe'to  time,  and  spoke 
to  him  in  a  language  that  he  could, not  un 
derstand  ;  although  lie  saw  that  it  was  some 
thing  amusing  and  well  meant  that  the  man 
said,  and  so  smiled  back  and  nodded.  He  felt 
it  to  be  quite  a  loss  when  the  man  moved 
away. 

Guido  thought  very  slowly,  but  he  at  last 
began  to  feel  a  certain  contempt  for  the  stiff 
statues  and  busts  which  no  one  wanted,  and 
buttoned  the  figure  of  .the  one  of  the  woman 
with  her  arms  held  out,  inside  of  his  jacket,  and 
tucked  his  scarf  in  around  it,  so  that  it  might 
not  be  broken,  and  also  that  it  might  not  bear 
the  ignominy  with  the  others  of  being  over 
looked.  Guido  was  a  gentle,  slow-thinking 
boy,  and  could  not  have  told  you  why  he  did 
this,  but  he  knew  that  this  figure  was  of  dif 
ferent  clay  from  the  others.  He  had  seen  it 
placed  high  in  the  cathedrals  at  home,  and  he 
had  been  told  that  if  you  ask  certain  things  of 
it  it  will  listen  to  you. 

The-wamcn  and  children  began  to  disappear 


110  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

from  the  crowd,  and  the  necessity  of  selling 
some  of  his  wares  impressed  itself  more  ur 
gently  upon  him  as  the  night  grew  darker  and 
possible  customers  fewer .\  He  decided  that  he 
had  taken  up  a  bad  position,  and  that  instead 
of  waiting  for  customers  to  come  to  him,  he 
ought  to  go  seek  for  them.  With  this  purpose 
in  his  mind  he  gathered  the  figures  together 
upon  his  tray,  and  resting  it  upon  his  shoulder, 
moved  further  along  the  street,  to  Broadway, 
where  the  crowd  was  greater  and  the  shops 
more  brilliantly  lighted.  He  had  good  -c^use 
to  be  watchful,  for  the  sidewalks  were  slippery 
with  ice,  and  the  people  rushed  and  hurried 
and  brushed  past  him  without  noticing  the 
burden  he  carried  on  o.n^shoulder.  He  wished 
now  that  he  knew  some  words  of  this  new 
language,  that  he  might  call  his  wares  and 
challenge  the  notice  of  the  passers-by,  as  did 
the  other  men  who  shouted  so  continually  and 
vehemently  at  the  hurrying  crowds."  s  He  did 
not  know  what  might  happen  if  he  failed  to 
sell  one  of  his  statues ;  it  was  a  possibility  so 
awful  that  he  did  not  dare  conceive  of  its  pun 
ishment.  But  he  could  do  nothing,  and  so 
stood  silent,  dumbly  presenting  his  tray  to  the 
people  near  him. 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  111 

His  wanderings  brought  him  to  the  corner 
of  a  street,  and  he  started  to  cross  it,  in  the 
hope  of  better  fortune  in  untried  territory. 
Thaw  Asas  no  need  of  his  hurry  ing  to  do  this, 
although—  8r  oar  was  coming  towards  him,  so 
U-eafefall  but-  -surel.  But  as  he 


reached  the  middle  of  the  track  a  man  came 
towards  him  from  the  opposite  pavement  ; 
they  met  and  hesitated,  and  then  both  jumped 
to  the  same  side,  and  the  man's  shoulder 
struck  the  tray  and  threw  the  white  figures 
flying  to  the  track,  where  the  horses  tramped 
over  them  on  their  way.  Guido  fell  backwards, 
frightened  and  shaken,  and  the  car  stopped, 
and  the  driver  and  the  conductor  leaned  out 
anxiously  from  each  end. 

There  seemed  to  be  hundreds  of  people  all 
around  Guido,  and  some  of  them  picked  him 
up  and  asked  him  questions  in  a  very  loud 
voice,  as  though  that  would  make  the  language 
they  spoke  more  intelligible.  Two  men  took 
him  by  each  arm  and  talked  with  him  in  earnest 
tones,  and  punctuated  their  questions  by  shak 
ing  him  gently.  He  could  not  answer  them, 
but  only  sobbed,  and  beat  his  hands  softly  to 
gether,  and  looked  about  him  for  a  chance  to 
escape.  The  conductor  of  the  car  jerked  the 


112  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

strap  violently,  and  the  car  went  on  its  way. 
Guido  watched  the  conductor,  as  he  stood 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  looking  back  at 
him.  Guido  had  a  confused  idea  that  the  peo 
ple  on  the  car  might  pay  him  for  the  plaster 
figures  which  had  been  scattered  in  the  slush 
and  snow,  so  that  the  heads  and  arms  and  legs 
lay  on  every  side  or  were  ground  into  heaps  of 
white  powder.  But  when  the  car  disappeared 
into  the  night  he  gave  up  this  hope,  and 
pulling  himself  free  from  his  captor,  slipped 
through  the  crowd  arid  ran  off  into  a  side 
street.  A  man  who  had  seen  the  accident 
had  been  trying  to  take  up  a  collection  in  the 
crowd,  which  had  grown  less  sympathetic  and 
less  numerous  in  consequence,  and  had  gath 
ered  more  than  the  plaster  casts  were  worth ; 
but  Guido  did  not  know  this,  and  when  they 
came  to  look  for  him  he  was  gone,  and  the 
bareheaded  gentleman,  with  his  hat  full  of 
coppers  and  dimes,  was  left  in  much  embar 
rassment. 

••GSioo  walked  to  Washington  Square,  and 
sat  down  on  a  bench  to  rest,  and  then  curled 
over  quickly,  and  stretching  himself  out  at 
full  length,  wept  bitterly.  When  any  one 
passed  he  held  his  breath  and  pretended  to 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  113 

be  asleep.  He  did  not  know  what  he  was  to 
do  or  where  he  was  to  go.  Such  a  calamity 
as  this  had  never  entered  into  his  calcula 
tions  of  the  evils  which  might  overtake  him, 
and  it  overwhelmed  him  utterly.  A  poHce- 
man  touched  him  with  his  night-stick,  and 
spoke  to  him  kindly  enough,  hut  the  hoy 
only  backed  away  from  the  man  until  he 
was  out  of  his  reach,  and  then  ran  on  again, 
slipping  and  stumbling  on  the  ice  and  snow. 
He-ran  to  Christopher  Street,  through  Green 
wich  Village,  and  on  to  the  wharves. 

It  was  quite  late,  and  he  had  recovered 
from  his  hunger,  and  only  felt  a  sick  tired 
ache  at  his  heart.  His  feet  were  heavy  and 
numb,  and  he^  was  very  sleepy.  People 
passed  him  continually,  and  doors  opened 
into  churches  and  into  noisy  glaring  saloons 
and  crowded  shops,  Jaut  it  did  not  seem  pos 
sible  to  him  that 'there  could  be  any  relief 
from  any  soureG  for  the  sorrow  that  had  be 
fallen  himx  It  seemed  too  awful,  and  as 
impossible  to  mend  as  it  would  be  to  bring 
the  crushed  plaster  into  shape  again.  He 
considered  dully  that  his  uncle  would  miss 
him  and  wait  for  him,  and  that  his  anger 
would  increase  with  every  moment  of  his 

8 


114          ,  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 


delay.  He  felt  that  he  could  never  return 
to  his  uncle  again. 

Then  he  came  to  another  park,  opening 
into  a  square,  with  lighted  saloons  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  great  sheds,  with  ships 
lying  beside  them,  and  the  electric  lights  show 
ing  their  spars  and  masts  against  the  sky.  It 
had  ceased  snowing,  but  the  air  from  the  river 
was  piercing  and  cold,  and  swept  through  the 
wires  overhead  with  a  ceaseless  moaning. 
The  numbness  had  crept  from  his  feet  up 
over  the  whole  extent  of  his  little  body,  and 
he  dropped  upon  a  flight  of  steps  back  of  a 
sailors'  boarding-house,  and  shoved  his  hands 
inside  of  his  jacket  for  possible  warmth.  His 
fingers  touched  the  figure  he  had  hidden  there 
and  closed  upon  it  lightly,  and  then  his  head 
dropped  back  against  the  wall,  and  he  fell  into 
a  heavy  sleep.  The  night  passed  on  and  grew 
colder,  and  the  wind  came  across  the  ice- 
blocked  river  with  shriller,  sharper  blasts, 
but  Guido  did  not  hear  it. 

"  Chuckey  "  Martin,  who  blacked  boots  in 
front  of  the  corner  saloon  in  summer  and 
swept  out  the  bar-room  in  winter,  came  out 
through  the  family  entrance  ra»d-~dt:imp£d,ja, 
pan  of  hot  ashes  into  the  snow-bank,  and 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  115 

then  turned  into  the  house  with  a  shiver. 
He  saw  a  mass  of  something  lying  curled  up 
on  the  steps  of  the  next  house,  and  romom- 
bcTert  it  after  lie  had  cfosed  the- door  of  the 
family  entrance  behind  him  and  shoved  the 
pan  under  the  store.  He  decided  at  last  that 
it  might  be  one  of  the  saloon's  customers,  or  a 
stray  sailor  with  loose  change  in  his  pockets, 
which  he  would  not  miss  when  he  awoke.  So 
he  went  out  again,  and  picking  Guido  up, 
brought  him  in  in  his  arms  and  laid  him  out 
on  the  floor. 

There  were  over  thirty  men  in  the  place ; 
they  had  been  celebrating  the  coming  of 
Christmas  ;  and  three  of  them  pushed  each 
other  out  of  the^wtfy^hivtheir  eagerness  to 
pour  very  had  I  > randy  between  Guido's  teeth. 
"  Chuckey  "  Martin  felt  a  sense  of  proprietor 
ship  in  Guido,  by  the  right  of  discovery,  and 
resented  this,  pushing  them  away,  and  pro 
testing  that  the  thing  to  do  was  to  rub  his 
feet  with  snow. 

A  fateity  chief  engineer  of  an  Italian  tramp 
steamer  dropped  on  his  knees  beside  Guido 
and  beat  the  boy's  hands,  and  with  unsteady 
fingers  tore  open  his  scarf  and  jacket,  and  as 
he  did  this  the  figure  of  the  plaster  Virgin 


116  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

with  her  hands  stretched  out  looked  up  at 
him  from  its  bed  on  Guido's  chest. 

Some  of  the  sailors  drew  their  hands  quickly 
across  their  breasts,  and  others  swore  in  some 
alarm,  and  the  bar-keeper  drank  the  glass  of 
whiskey  he  had  brought  for  Guido  at  a  gulp, 
and  then  readjusted  his  apron  to  show  that 
nothing  had  disturbed  his  equanimity.     Guido 
sat  up,  with  his  head  against  the  chief  engi 
neer's  knees,  and  opened  his  eyes,  and   his 
ears  were   greeted   with   words   in   his   own 
tongue.     They  gave  him  hot  coffee  and  hot 
soup  and  more  brandy,  and  he  told  his  story 
in  a  burst  of  words  that  flowed  like  a  torrent 
of  tears  —  how  he  had  been  stolen  from  his 
home  at  Genoa,  where  he  used  to  watch  the 
boats   from    the  stone   pier   in  front  of  the 
custom-house,  at  which  the  sailors  nodded, 
and  how  the  padrone,  who  was  not  his  uncle, 
finding  he    could   not   black   boots   nor  sell 
papers,  had  given  him  these  plaster  casts  to 
sell,   and    how  he    had   whipped    him  when 
people  would  not  buy  them,  and  how  at  last 
he  had  tripped,  and  broken  them  all  except 
this  one  hidden  in  his  breast,  and  how  he  had 
gone  to  sleep,  and  he  asked  now  why  had  they 
wakened  him,  for  he  had  no  place  to  go. 


AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT  117 

Guido  remembered  telling  them  this,  and 
following  them  by  their  gestures  as  they 
retold  it  to  the  others  in  a  strange  language, 
and  then  the  lights  began  to  spin,  and  the 
faces  grew  distant,  and  he  reached  out  his 
hand  for  the  fat  chief  engineer,  and  felt  his 
arms  tightening  around  him. 

A  cold  wind  woke  Guido,  and  the  sound  of 
something  throbbing  and  beating  like  a  great 
clock.  He  was  very  warm  and  tired  and 
lazy,  arrd^vircn  he  raised  his  head  he  touched 
tlic  ivilincr  closo  above  him,  and  when  he 
o}**He«.l  his  ryes  he  found  himself  in  a  little 
room  with  a  square  table  covered  with  oil 
cloth  in  the  centre,  and  rows  of  beds  like 
shelves  around  the  walls.  The  room  rose 
and  fell  as  the  streets  did  when  he  had  had 
nothing  to  eat,  and  he  scrambled  out  of  the 
warm  blankets  and  crawled  fearfully  up  a 
flight  of  narrow  stairs.  There  was  water  on 
either  side  of  him,  beyond  and  behind  him  — 
water  blue  and  white  and  dancing  in  the  sun, 
with  great  blocks  of  dirty  ice  tossing  on  its 
surface. 

And  behind  him  lay  the  odious  city  of 
New  York,  with  its  great  bridge  and  high 
buildings,  and  before  him  the  open  sea.  The 


118  AN  ASSISTED  EMIGRANT 

chief  engineer  crawled  up  from  the  engine- 
room   and   came   towards   him,  rubbing—the 

perspiration  from  his  face  with  a  dirty  towel. 

"  Good-morning,"  he  called  out.  "  You  are 
feeling  pretty  well  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

u  It  is  Christmas  day.  Do  you  know  where 
you  are  going  ?  You  are  going  to  Italy,  to 
Genoa.  It  is  over  there,"  he  said,  pointing 
with  his  finger.  "  Go  back  to  your  bed  and 
keep  warm." 

He  picked  Guido  up  in  his  arms,  and  ran 
with  him  down  the  companion-way,  and  tossed 
him  back  into  his  berth.  Then  he  pointed  to 
the  shelf  at  one  end  of  the  little  room,  above 
the  sheet-iron  stove.  The  plaster  figure  that 
Guido  had  wrapped  in  his  breast  had  been 
put  there  and  lashed  to  its  place. 

"  That  will  bring  us  good  luck  and  a  quick 
voyage,"  said  the  chief  engineer. 

Guido  lay  quite  still  until  the  fat  engineer 
had  climbed  up  the  companion-way  again  and 
permitted  the  sunlight  to  once  more  enter  the 
cabin.  Then  he  crawled  out  of  his  berth  and 
dropped  on  his  knees,  and  raised  up  his  hands 
to  the  plaster  figure  which  no  one  would  buy. 


THE  REPORTER  WHO   MADE 
HIMSELF   KING 


THE  Old  Time  Journalist  will  tell  you  that 
the  best  reporter  is  the  one  who  works  his 
way  up.  He  holds  that  the  only  way  to  start 
is  as  a  printer's  devil  or  as  an  office  boy,  to 
learn  in  time  to  set  type,  to  graduate  from 
a  compositor  into  a  stenographer,  and  as  a 
stenographer  take  down  speeches  at  public 
meetings,  and  so  finally  grow  into  a  real  re 
porter,  with  a  fire  badge  on  your  left  suspen 
der,  and  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  all  the 
greatest  men  in  the  city,  not  even  excepting 
Police  Captains. 

That  is  the  old  time  journalist's  idea  of  it. 
That  is  the  way  he  was  trained,  and  that  is 
why  at  the  age  of  sixty  he  is  still  a  reporter. 
If  you  train  up  a  youth  in  this  way,  he  will 
go  into  reporting  with  too  full  a  knowledge  of 
the  newspaper  business,  with  no  illusions  con 
cerning  it,  and  with  no  ignorant  enthusiasms, 
but  with  a  keen  and  justifiable  impression 


120  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

that  he  is  not  paid  enough  for  what  he  does. 
And  he  will  only  do  what  he  is  paid  to  do. 

Now,  you  cannot  pay  a  good  reporter  for 
what  he  does,  because  he  does  not  work  for 
pay.  He  works  for  his  paper.  He  gives  his 
time,  his  health,  his  brains,  his  sleeping 
hoars,  and  his  eating  hours,  and  sometimes 
his  life  to  get  news  for  it.  He  thinks  the  sun 
rises  only  that  men  may  have  light  by  which 
to  read  it.  But  if  he  has  been  in  a  newspaper 
office  from  his  youth  up,  he  finds  out  before 
he  becomes  a  reporter  that  this  is  not  so,  and 
loses  his  real  value.  He  should  come  right 
out  of  the  University  where  he  has  been  do 
ing  "campus  notes  "for  the  college  weekly, 
and  be  pitchforked  out  into  city  work  without 
knowing  whether  the  Battery  is  at  Harlem  or 
Hunter's  Point,  and  with  the  idea  that  he  is 
a  Moulder  of  Public  Opinion  and  that  the 
Power  of  the  Press  is  greater  than  the  Power 
of  Money,  and  that  the  few  lines  he  writes 
are  of  more  value  in  the  Editor's  eyes  than  is 
the  column  of  advertising  on  the  last  page, 
which  they  are  not.  After  three  years  —  it 
is  sometimes  longer,  sometimes  not  so  long  — 
he  finds  out  that  he  has  given  his  nerves  and 
his  youth  and  his  enthusiasm  in  exchange 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  121 

for  a  general  fund  of  miscellaneous  knowl 
edge,  the  opportunity  of  personal  encounter 
with  all  the  greatest  and  most  remarkable 
men  and  events  that  have  risen  in  those 
three  years,  and  a  great  fund  of  resource  and 
patience.  He  will  find  that  he  has  crowded 
the  experiences  of  the  lifetime  of  the  ordinary 
young  business  man,  doctor,  or  lawyer,  or 
man  about  town,  into  three  short  years  ;  that 
he  lias  learned  to  think  and  to  act  quickly, 
to  be  patient  and  unmoved  when  every  one 
else  has  lost  his  head,  actually  or  figuratively 
speaking;  to  write  as  fast  as  another  man  can 
talk,  and  to  be  able  to  talk  with  authority  on 
matters  of  which  other  men  do  not  venture 
even  to  think  until  they  have  read  what  he 
has  written  with  a  copy-boy  at  his  elbow  on 
the  night  previous. 

It  is  necessary  for  you  to  know  this,  that 
you  may  understand  what  manner  of  man 
young  Albert  Gordon  was. 

Young  Gordon  had  been  a  reporter  just 
three  years.  He  had  left  Yale  when  his  last 
living  relative  died,  and  had  taken  the  morn 
ing  train  for  New  York,  where  they  had 
promised  him  reportorial  work  on  one  of  the 
innumerable  Greatest  New  York  Dailies.  He 


122  THE  REPORTER   WHO 

arrived  at  the  office  at  noon,  and  was  sent 
back  over  the  same  road  on  which  he  had 
just  come,  to  Spuyten  Duyvil,  where  a  train 
had  been  wrecked  and  everybody  of  conse 
quence  to  suburban  New  York  killed.  One 
of  the  old  reporters  hurried  him  to  the  office 
again  with  his  "  copy,"  and  after  he  had  de 
livered  that,  he  was  sent  to  the  Tombs  to  talk 
French  to  a  man  in  Murderer's  Row,  who 
could  not  talk  anything  else,  but  who  had 
shown  some  international  skill  in  the  use  of 
a  jimmy.  And  at  eight,  he  covered  a  flower- 
show  in  Madison  Square  Garden ;  and  at 
eleven  was  sent  over  the  Brooklyn  Bridge 
in  a  cab  to  watch  a  fire  and  make  guesses  at 
the  losses  to  the  insurance  companies. 

He  went  to  bed  at  one,  and  dreamed  of  shat 
tered  locomotives,  human  beings  lying  still 
with  blankets  over  them,  rows  of  cells,  and 
banks  of  beautiful  flowers  nodding  their  heads 
to  the  tunes  of  the  brass  band  in  the  gallery. 
He  decided  when  he  awoke  the  next  morning 
that  he  had  entered  upon  a  picturesque  and 
exciting  career,  and  as  one  day  followed  an 
other,  he  became  more  and  more  convinced  of 
it,  and  more  and  more  devoted  to  it.  He  was 
twenty  then,  and  he  was  now  twenty-three, 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  123 

and  in  that  time  had  become  a  great  reporter, 
and  had  been  to  Presidential  conventions  in 
Chicago,  revolutions  in  Hayti,  Indian  out 
breaks  on  the  Plains,  and  midnight  meetings 
of  moonlighters  in  Tennessee,  and  had  seen 
what  work  earthquakes,  floods,  fire,  arid  fever 
could  do  in  great  cities,  and  had  contradicted 
the  President,  and  borrowed  matches  from 
burglars.  And  now  he  thought  he  would 
like  to  rest  and  breathe  a  bit,  and  not  to 
work  again  unless  as  a  war  correspondent. 
The  only  obstacle  to  his  becoming  a  great 
war  correspondent  lay  in  the  fact  that  there 
was  no  war,  and  a  war  correspondent  without 
a  war  is  about  as  absurd  an  individual  as  a 
general  without  an  army.  He  read  the 
papers  every  morning  on  the  elevated  trains 
for  war  clouds ;  but  though  there  were  many 
war  clouds,  they  always  drifted  apart,  and 
peace  smiled  again.  This  was  very  disap 
pointing  to  young  Gordon,  and  he  became 
more  and  more  keenly  discouraged. 

And  then  as  war  work  was  out  of  the  ques 
tion,  he  decided  to  write  his  novel.  It  was 
to  be  a  novel  of  New  York  life,  and  he 
wanted  a  quiet  place  in  which  to  work  on  it. 
He  was  already  making  inquiries  among  the 


124  THE  REPORTER   WHO 

suburban  residents  of  his  acquaintance  for 
just  such  a  quiet  spot,  when  he  received  an 
offer  to  go  to  the  Island  of  Opeki  in  the 
North  Pacific  Ocean,  as  secretary  to  the 
American  consul  to  that  place.  The  gentle 
man  who  had  been  appointed  by  the  Presi 
dent  to  act  as  consul  at  Opeki,  was  Captain 
Leonard  T.  Travis,  a  veteran  of  the  Civil 
War,  who  had  contracted  a  severe  attack  of 
rheumatism  while  camping  out  at  night  in 
the  dew,  and  who -on  account  of  this  souvenir 
of  his  efforts  to  save  the  Union  had  allowed 
the  Union  he  had  saved  to  support  him  in 
one  office  or  another  ever  since.  ~  He  had 
met  young  Gordon  at  a  dinner,  and  had  had 
the  presumption  to  ask  him  to  serve  as  his 
secretary,  and  Gordon,  much  to  his  surprise, 
had  accepted  his  offer.  The  idea  of  a  quiet 
life  in  the  tropics  with  new  and  beautiful 
surroundings,  and  with  nothing  to  do  and 
plenty  of  time  in  which  to  do  it,  and  to 
write  his  novel  besides,  seemed  to  Albert 
to  be  just  what  he  wanted ;  and  though  he 
did  not  know  nor  care  much  for  his  superior 
officer,  he  agreed  to  go  with  him  promptly, 
and  proceeded  to  say  good -by  to  his  friends 
and  to  make  his  preparations.  Captain 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  125 

Travis  was  so  delighted  with  getting  such  a 
clever  young  gentleman  for  his  secretary, 
that  he  referred  to  him  to  his  friends  as  "  my 
attache*  of  legation;"  nor  did  he  lessen  that 
gentleman's  dignity  by  telling  any  one  that 
the  attache's  salary  was  to  be  five  -hundred 
dollars  a  year.  His  own  salary  was  only  fif 
teen  hundred  dollars ;  and  though  his  brother- 
in-law,  Senator  Rainsford,  tried  his  best  to 
get  the  amount  raised,  he  was  unsuccessful. 
The  consulship  to  Opeki  was  instituted  early 
in  the  '50's,  to  get  rid  of  and  reward  a  third 
or  fourth  cousin  of  the  President's,  whose 
services  during  the  campaign  were  impor 
tant,  but  w.hose  after-presence  was  embar 
rassing.  He  had  been  created  consul  to 
Opeki  as~being  more  distant  and  unacces- 
sible  than  any  other  known  spot,  and  had 
lived  and  died  there;  and  so  little  was 
known  of  the  island,  and  so  difficult  was 

-s-« 

communication  with  it,  that  no  one  knew 
he  was  dead,  until  Captain  Travis,  in  his 
hungry  haste  for  office,  had  uprooted  the  sad 
fact.  Captain  Travis,  as  well  as  Albert, 
had  a  secondary  reason  for  wishing  to  visit 
Opeki.  His  physician  had  told  him  to  go 
to  some  warm  climate  for  his  rheumatism, 


126  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

and  in  accepting  the  consulship  his  object 
was  rather  to  follow  out  his  doctor's  orders 
at  his  country's  expense,  than  to  serve  his 
country  at  the  expense  of  his  rheumatism. 

Albert  could  learn  but  very  little  of  Opeld ; 
nothing,  indeed,  but  that  it  was  situated 
about  one  hundred  miles  from  the  Island  of 
Octavia,  which  island,  in  turn,  was  simply 
described  as  a  coaling-station  three  hundred 
miles  distant  from  the  coast  of  California. 
Steamers  from  San  Francisco  to  Yokohama 
stopped  every  third  week  at  Octavia,  and  that 
was  all  that  either  Captain  Travis  or  his  secre 
tary  could  learn  of  their  new  home.  This  was 
so  very  little,  that  Albert  stipulated  to  stay 
only  as  long  as  he  liked  it,  and  to  return  to 
the  States  within  a  few  months  if  he  found 
such  a  change  of  plan  desirable. 

As  he  was  going  to  what  was  an  almost 
undiscovered  country,  he  thought  it  would 
be  advisable  to  furnish  himself  with  a  supply 
of  articles  with  which  he  might  trade  with 
the  native  Opekians,  and  for  this  purpose  he 
purchased  a  large  quantity  of  brass  rods, 
because  he  had  read  that  Stanley  did  so,  and 
added  to  these,  brass  curtain  chains  and 
about  two  hundred  leaden  medals  similar  to 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  127 

those  sold  by  street  pedlers  during  the  Con 
stitutional  Centennial  celebration  in  New 
York  City. 

He  also  collected  even  more  beautiful  but 
less  expensive  decorations  for  Christmas 
trees,  at  a  wholesale  house  on  Park  Row. 
These  he  hoped  to  exchange  for  furs  or 
feathers  or  weapons,  or  for  whatever  other 
curious  and  valuable  trophies  the  Island  of 
Opeki  boasted.  He  already  pictured  his 
rooms  on  his  return  hung  fantastically  with 
crossed  spears  and  boomerangs,  feather 
head-dresses,  and  ugly  idols. 

His  friends  told  him  that  he  was  doing  a 
very  foolish  thing,  and  argued  that- once  out 
of  the  newspaper  world,  it  would  be  hard  to 
regain  his  place  in  it.  But  he  thought  the 
novel  that  he  would  write  while  lost  to  the 
world  at  Opeki  would  serve  to  make  up  for 
his  temporary  absence  from  it,  and  he  ex 
pressly  and  impressively  stipulated  that  the 
editor  should  wire  him  if  there  was  a  war. 

Captain  Travis  and  his  secretary  crossed 
the  continent  without  adventure,  and  took 
passage  from  San  Francisco  on  the  first 
steamer  that  touched  at  Octavia.  They 
reached  that  island  in  three  days,  and 


128  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

learned  with  some  concern  that  there  was 
no  regular  communication  with  Opeki,  and 
that  it  would  be  necessary  to  charter  a  sail 
boat  for  the  trip.  Two  fishermen  agreed  to 
take  them  and  their  trunks,  and  to  get  them 
to  their  destination  within  sixteen  hours  if 
the  wind  held  good.  It  was  a  most  unpleas 
ant  sail.  The  rain  fell  with  calm,  relentless 
persistence  from  what  was  apparently  a 
clear  sky ;  the  wind  tossed  the  waves  as  high 
as  the  mast  and  made  Captain  Travis  ill; 
and  as  there  was  no  deck  to  the  big  boat, 
they  were  forced  to  huddle  up  under  pieces 
of  canvas,  and  talked  but  little.  Captain 
Travis  complained  of  frequent  twinges  of 
rheumatism,  and  gazed  forlornly  over  the 
gunwale  at  the  empty  waste  of  water. 

"  If  I  've  got  to  serve  a  term  of  imprison 
ment  on  a  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean 
for  four  years, "  he  said,  "  I  might  just  as 
well  have  done  something  first  to  deserve  it. 
This  is  a  pretty  way  to  treat  a  man  who 
bled  for  his  country.  This  is  gratitude,  this 
is."  Albert  pulled  heavily  on  his  pipe,  and 
wiped  the  rain  and  spray  from  his  face  and 
smiled. 

"Oh,    it  won't  be   so  bad  when   we  get 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  129 

there,"  he  said;  "they  say  these  Southern 
people  are  always  hospitable,  and  the  whites 
will  be  glad  to  see  any  one  from  the  States." 

"There  will  be  a  round  of  diplomatic 
dinners,"  said  the  consul,  with  an  attempt 
at  cheerfulness.  "  I  have  brought  two  uni 
forms  to  wear  at  them. " 

It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  when 
the  rain  ceased,  and  one  of  the  black,  half- 
naked  fishermen  nodded  and  pointed  at  a 
little  low  line  on  the  horizon. 

"Opeki,"  he  said.  The  line  grew  in 
length  until  it  proved  to  be  an  island  with 
great  mountains  rising  to  the  clouds,  and  as 
they  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  showed  a  level 
coast  running  back  to  the  foot  of  the  moun 
tains  and  covered  with  a  forest  of  palms. 
They  next  made  out  a  village  of  thatched 
huts  around  a  grassy  square,  and  at  some 
distance  from  the  village  a  wooden  structure 
with  a  tin  roof. 

"I  wonder  where  the  town  is,"  asked  the 
consul,  with  a  nervous  glance  at  the  fisher 
men.  One  of  them  told  him  that  what  he 
saw  was  the  town. 

" That  ?"  gasped  the  consul.  "Is  that 
where  all  the  people  on  the  island  live  ?  " 


130  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

The  fisherman  nodded ;  but  the  other  added 
that  there  were  other  natives  further  back  in 
the  mountains,  but  that  they  were  bad  men 
who  fought  and  ate  each  other.  The  consul 
and  his  attach^  of  legation  gazed  at  the 
mountains  with  unspoken  misgivings.  They 
were  quite  near  now,  and  could  see  an 
immense  crowd  of  men  and  women,  all  of 
them  black,  and  clad  but  in  the  simplest 
garments,  waiting  to  receive  them.  They 
seemed  greatly  excited  and  ran  in  and  out 
of  the  huts,  and  up  and  down  the  beach,  as 
wildly  as  so  many  black  ants.  But  in  the 
front  of  the  group  they  distinguished  three 
men  who  they  could  see  were  white,  though 
they  were  clothed,  like  the  others,  simply  in 
a  shirt  and  a  short  pair  of  trousers.  Two  of 
these  three  suddenly  sprang  away  on  a  run 
and  disappeared  among  the  palm-trees ;  but 
the  third  one,  when  he  recognized  the 
American  flag  in  the  halyards,  threw  his 
straw  hat  in  the  water  and  began  turning 
handsprings  over  the  sand. 

"That  young  gentleman,  at  least,"  said 
Albert,  gravely,  "seems  pleased  to  see  us." 

A  dozen  of  the  natives  sprang  into  the 
water  and  came  wading  and  swimming 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  131 

towards  them,   grinning   and   shouting   and 
swinging  their  arms. 

"  I  don't  think  it 's  quite  safe,  do  you  ?  " 
said  the  consul,  looking  out  wildly  to  the 
open  sea.  "  You  see,  they  don't  know  who 
I  am." 

A  great  black  giant  threw  one  arm  over 
the  gunwale  and  shouted  something  that 
sounded  as  if  it  were  spelt  Owah,  0\vah,  as 
the  boat  carried  him  through  the  surf. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?  "  said  Gordon,  doubt 
fully.  The  boat  shook  the  giant  off  under 
the  wave  and  beached  itself  so  suddenly  that 
the  American  consul  was  thrown  forward  to 
his  knees.  Gordon  did  not  wait  to  pick  him 
up,  but  jumped  out  and  shook  hands  with 
the  young  man  who  had  turned  handsprings, 
while  the  natives  gathered  about  them  in  a 
circle  and  chatted  and  laughed  in  delighted 
excitement. 

"I'm  awful  glad  to  see  you,"  said  the 
yonng  man,  eagerly.  "My  name  's  Stedman. 
I  'm  from  New  Haven,  Connecticut.  Where 
are  you  from  ?  " 

"New  York,"  said  Albert.  "This,"  he 
added,  pointing  solemnly  to  Captain  Travis, 
who  was  still  on  his  knees  in  the  boat,  "is 


132  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

the  American  consul  to  Opeki. "  The  Ameri 
can  consul  to  Opeki  gave  a  wild  look  at  Mr. 
Stedman  of  New  Haven  and  at  the  natives. 

"See  here,  young  man,"  he  gasped,  "is 
this  all  there  is  of  Opeki  ? " 

"  The  American  consul  ?  "  said  young  Sted 
man,  with  a  gasp  of  amazement,  and  looking 
from  Albert  to  Captain  Travis.  "Why,  I 
never  supposed  they  would  send  another 
here;  the  last  one  died  about  fifteen  years 
ago,  and  there  has  n't  been  one  since.  I  've 
been  living  in  the  consul's  office  with  the 
Bradleys,  but  I  '11  move  out,  of  course.  I  'm 
sure  I  'm  awfully  glad  to  see  you.  It  '11 
make  it  so  much  more  pleasant  for  me." 

"Yes,"  said  Captain  Travis,  bitterly,  as 
he  lifted  his  rheumatic  leg  over  the  boat; 
"that's  why  we  came." 

Mr.  Stedman  did  not  notice  this.  He  was 
too  much  pleased  to  be  anything  but  hospit 
able.  "You  are  soaking  wet,  aren't  you  ?  " 
he  said;  "and  hungry,  I  guess.  You  come 
right  over  to  the  consul's  office  and  get  on 
some  other  things." 

He  turned  to  the  natives  and  gave  some 
rapid  orders  in  their  language,  and  some  of 
them  jumped  into  the  boat  at  this,  and  began 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  133 

to  lift  out  the  trunks,  and  others  ran  off 
towards  a  large,  stout  old  native,  who  was 
sitting  gravely  on  a  log,  smoking,  with  the 
rain  beating  unnoticed  on  his  gray  hair. 

"They've  gone  to  tell  the  King,"  said 
Stedman ;  "  but  you  'd  better  get  something 
to  eat  first,  and  then  I  '11  be  happy  to  present 
you  properly." 

"The  lung,"  said  Captain  Travis,  with 
some  awe ;  "  is  there  a  king  ?  " 

"I  never  saw  a  king,"  Gordon  remarked, 
"  and  I  'm  sure  I  never  expected  to  see  one 
sitting  on  a  log  in  the  rain." 

"He  's  a  very  good  king,"  safd  Stedman, 
confidentially;  "and  though  you  mightn't 
think  it  to  look  at  him,  he  's  a  terrible 
stickler  for  etiquette  and  form.  After  supper 
he  '11  give  you  an  audience;  and  if  you  have 
any  tobacco,  you  had  better  give  him  some 
as  a  present,  and  you  'd  better  say  it 's  from 
the  President:  he  doesn't  like  to  take 
presents  from  common  people,  he  's  so  proud. 
The  only  reason  he  borrows  mine  is  because 
he  thinks  I  'm  the  President's  son." 

"  What  makes  him  think  that  ?  "  demanded 
the  consul,  with  some  shortness.  Young 
Mr.  Stedman  looked  nervously  at  the  consul 


134  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

and  at  Albert,  and  said  that  he  guessed  some 
one  must  have  told  him. 

The  consul's  office  was  divided  into  four 
rooms  with  an  open  court  in  the  middle, 
filled  with  palms,  and  watered  somewhat 
unnecessarily  by  a  fountain. 

"I  made  that,"  said  Stedman,  in  a  modest 
off-hand  way.  "I  made  it  out  of  hollow 
bamboo  reeds  connected  with  a  spring. 
And  now  I  'm  making  one  for  the  King.  He 
saw  this  and  had  a  lot  of  bamboo  sticks  put 
up  all  over  the  town,  without  any  under 
ground  connections,  and  could  n't  make  out 
why  the  water  would  n't  spurt  out  of  them. 
And  because  mine  spurts,  he  thinks  I  'm  a 
magician. " 

"I  suppose,"  grumbled  the  consul,  "some 
one  told  him  that  too. " 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Stedman, 
uneasily. 

There  was  a  veranda  around  the  consul's 
office,  and  inside  the  walls  were  hung  with 
skins,  and  pictures  from  illustrated  papers, 
and  there  was  a  good  deal  of  bamboo  furni 
ture,  and  four  broad,  cool-looking  beds. 
The  place  was  as  clean  as  a  kitchen.  "I 
made  the  furniture, "  said  Stedman,  "  and  the 
Bradleys  keep  the  place  in  order. " 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  135 

"  Who  are  the  Bradleys  ?  "  asked  Albert. 

"The  Bradleys  are  those  two  men  you  saw 
with  me,"  said  Stedman;  "they  deserted 
from  a  British  man-of-war  that  stopped  here 
for  coal,  and  they  act  as  my  servants.  One 
is  Bradley,  Sr.,  and  the  other,  Bradley,  Jr." 

"Then  vessels  do  stop  here  occasionally  ?  " 
the  consul  said,  with  a  pleased  smile. 

"Well,  not  of  ten,  "said  Stedman.  "Not 
so  very  often;  about  once  a  year.  The 
Nelson  thought  this  was  Octavia,  and  put  off 
again  as  soon  as  she  found  out  her  mistake, 
but  the  Bradleys  took  to  the  bush,  and  the 
boat's  crew  could  n't  find  them.  When  they 
saw  your  flag,  they  thought  you  might  mean 
to  send  them  back,  so  they  ran  off  to  hide 
again:  they'll  be  back,  though,  when  they 
get  hungry. " 

The  supper  young  Stedman  spread  for  his 
guests,  as  he  still  treated  them,  was  very 
refreshing  and  very  good.  There  was  cold 
fish  and  pigeon  pie,  and  a  hot  omelet  filled 
with  mushrooms  and  olives  and  tomatoes  and 
onions  all  sliced  up  together,  and  strong 
black  coffee.  After  supper,  Stedman  went 
off  to  see  the  King,  and  came  back  in  a  little 
while  to  say  that  his  Majesty  would  give 


136  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

them  an  audience  the  next  day  after  break 
fast.  "It  is  too  dark  now,"  Stedman 
explained;  "and  it's  raining  so  that  they 
can't  make  the  street  lamps  burn.  Did 
you  happen  to  notice  our  lamps  ?  I  invented 
them;  but  they  don't  work  very  well  yet. 
I  've  got  the  right  idea,  though,  and  I  '11 
soon  have  the  town  illuminated  all  over, 
whether  it  rains  or  not." 

The  consul  had  been  very  silent  and 
indifferent,  during  supper,  to  all  around 
him.  Now  he  looked  up  with  some  show  of 
interest. 

"  How  much  longer  is  it  going  to  rain,  do 
you  think  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Stedman,  criti 
cally.  "  Not  more  than  two  months,  I  should 
say."  The  consul  rubbed  his  rheumatic  leg 
and  sighed,  but  said  nothing. 

The  Bradley s  returned  about  ten  o'clock, 
and  came  in  very  sheepishly.  The  consul 
had  gone  off  to  pay  the  boatmen  who  had 
brought  them,  and  Albert  in  his  absence 
assured  the  sailors  that  there  was  not  the 
least  danger  of  their  being  sent  away.  Then 
he  turned  into  one  of  the  beds,  and  Stedman 
took  one  in  another  room,  leaving  the  room 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  137 

he  had  occupied  heretofore  for  the  consul. 
As  he  was  saying  good-night,  Albert  sug 
gested  that  he  had  not  yet  told  them  how  he 
came  to  be  on  a  deserted  island ;  but  Stedman 
only  laughed  and  said  that  that  was  a  long 
story,  and  that  he  would  tell  him  all'  about 
it  in  the  morning.  So  Albert  went  off  to 
bed  without  waiting  for  the  consul  to  return, 
and  fell  asleep,  wondering  at  the  strangeness 
of  his  new  life,  and  assuring  himself  that  if 
the  rain  only  kept  up,  he  would  have  his 
no^el  finished  in  a  month. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  when  he 
awoke,  and  the  palm-trees  outside  were  nod 
ding  gracefully  in  a  warm  breeze.  From 
the  court  came  the  odor  of  strange  flowers, 
and  from  the  window  he  could  see  the  ocean 
brilliantly  blue,  and  with  the  sun  coloring 
the  spray  that  beat  against  the  coral  reefs 
on  the  shore. 

"Well,  the  consul  can't  complain  of  this," 
he  said,  with  a  laugh  of  satisfaction;  and 
pulling  on  a  bath-robe,  he  stepped  into  the 
next  room  to  awaken  Captain  Travis.  But 
the  room  was  quite  empty,  and  the  bed 
undisturbed.  The  consul's  trunk  remained 
just  where  it  had  been  placed  near  the  door, 


138  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

and  on  it  lay  a  large  sheet  of  foolscap,  with 
writing  on  it,  and  addressed  at  the  top  to 
Albert  Gordon.  The  handwriting  was  the 
consul's.  Albert  picked  it  up  and  read  it 
with  much  anxiety.  It  began  abruptly  :  — 

"The  fishermen  who  brought  us  to  this 
forsaken  spot  tell  me  that  it  rains  here  six 
months  in  the  year,  and  that  this  is  the  first 
month.  I  came  here  to  serve  my  country, 
for  which  I  fought  and  bled,  but  I  did  not 
come  here  to  die  of  rheumatism  and  pneu 
monia.  I  can  serve  my  country  better  by 
staying  alive ;  and  whether  it  rains  or  not,  I 
don't  like  it.  I  have  been  grossly  deceived, 
and  I  am  going  back.  Indeed,  by  the  time 
you  get  this,  I  will  be  on  my  return  trip,  as 
I  intend  leaving  with  the  men  who  brought 
us  here  as  soon  as  they  can  get  the  sail  up. 
My  cousin,  Senator  Rainsford,  can  fix  it  all 
right  with  the  President,  and  can  have  me 
recalled  in  proper  form  after  I  get  back. 
But  of  course  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  leave 
my  post  with  no  one  to  take  my  place,  and 
no  one  could  be  more  ably  fitted  to  do  so 
than  yourself;  so  I  feel  no  compunctions  at 
leaving  you  behind.  I  hereby,  therefore, 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  139 

accordingly  appoint  you  my  substitute  with 
full  power  to  act,  to  collect  all  fees,  sign  all 
papers,  and  attend  to  all  matters  pertaining 
to  your  office  as  American  consul,  and  I  trust 
you  will  worthily  uphold  the  name  of  that 
country  and  government  which  it  has  always 
been  my  pleasure  and  duty  to  serve. 

"  Your  sincere  friend  and  superior  officer, 
"  LEONARD  T.  TRAVIS. 

"P.  S.  I  did  not  care  to  disturb  you  by 
moving  my  trunk,  so  I  left  it,  and  you  can 
make  what  use  you  please  of  whatever  it 
contains,  as  I  shall  not  want  tropical  gar 
ments  where  I  am  going.  What  you  will 
need  most,  I  think,  is  a  waterproof  and 
umbrella. 

"P.  S.  Look  out  for  that  young  man 
Stedman.  He  is  too  inventive.  I  hope  you 
will  like  your  high  office;  but  as  for  myself, 
I  am  satisfied  with  little  old  New  York. 
Opeki  is  just  a  bit  too  far  from  civilization 
to  suit  me." 

Albert  held  the  letter  before  him  and  read 
it  over  again  before  he  moved.  Then  he 
jumped  to  the  window.  The  boat  was  gone, 
and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  it  on  the  horizon. 


140  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

"  The  miserable  old  l^pocrite !  "  he  cried, 
half  angry  and  half  laughing.  "  If  he  thinks 
I  am  going  to  stay  here  alone  he  is  very 
greatly  mistaken.  And  yet,  why  not  ?  "  he 
asked.  He  stopped  soliloquizing  and  looked 
around  him,  thinking  rapidly.  As  he  stood 
there,  Stedman  came  in  from  the  other 
room,  fresh  and  smiling  from  his  morning's 
bath. 

"Good  morning,"  he  said,  " where  's  the 
consul ? " 

"The  consul,"  said  Albert,  gravely,  "is 
before  you.  In  me  you  see  the  American 
consul  to  Opeki. 

"Captain  Travis,"  Albert  explained,  "has 
returned  to  the  United  States.  I  suppose 
he  feels  that  he  can  best  serve  his  country 
by  remaining  on  the  spot.  In  case  of 
another  war,  now,  for  instance,  he  would  be 
there  to  save  it  again. " 

"And  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  asked 
Stedman,  anxiously.  "You  will  not  run 
away  too,  will  you  ?  " 

Albert  said  that  he  intended  to  remain 
where  he  was  and  perform  his  consular 
duties,  to  appoint  him  his  secretary, 
and  to  elevate  the  United  States  in  the 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  141 

opinion  of  the  Opekians  above  all  other 
nations. 

"  They  may  not  think  much  of  the  United 
States  in  England,"  he  said;  ubut  we  are 
going  to  teach  the  people  of  Opeki  that 
America  is  first  on  the  map,  and  that  there 
is  no  second." 

"  I'm  sure  it's  very  good  of  you  to  make 
me  your  secretary,"  said  Stedman,  with  some 
pride.  "  I  hope  I  won't  make  any  mistakes. 
What  are  the  duties  of  a  consul's  secretary  ?" 

"  That,"  said  Albert,  "  I  do  not  know.  But 
you  are  rather  good  at  inventing,  so  you  can 
invent  a  few.  That  should  be  your  first  duty 
and  you  should  attend  to  it  at  once.  I  will 
have  trouble  enough  finding  work  for  myself. 
Your  salary  is  five  hundred  dollars  a  year; 
and  now,"  he  continued,  briskly,  "  we  want 
to  prepare  for  this  reception.  We  can  tell  the 
King  that  Travis  was  just  a  guard  of  honor 
for  the  trip,  and  that  I  have  sent  him  back  to 
tell  the  President  of  my  safe  arrival.  That 
will  keep  the  President  from  getting  anxious. 
There  is  nothing,"  continued  Albert,  "  like 
a  uniform  to  impress  people  who  live  in  the 
tropics,  and  Travis,  it  so  happens,  has  two 
in  his  trunk.  He  intended  to  wear  them  on 


142  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

State  occasions,  and  as  I  inherit  the  trunk 
and  all  that  is  in  it,  I  intend  to  wear  one  of 
the  uniforms,  and  you  can  have  the  other. 
But  I  have  first  choice,  because  I  am  consul." 

Captain  Travis's  consular  outfit  consisted 
of  one  full  dress  and  one  undress  United 
States  uniform.  Albert  put  on  the  dress-coat 
over  a  pair  of  white  flannel  trousers,  and 
looked  remarkably  brave  and  handsome.  Sted- 
man,  who  was  only  eighteen  and  quite  thin, 
did  not  appear  so  well,  until  Albert  suggested 
his  padding  out  his  chest  and  shoulders  with 
towels.  This  made  him  rather  warm,  but 
helped  his  general  appearance. 

"  The  two  Bradleys  must  dress  up,  too," 
said  Albert.  "  I  think  they  ought  to  act  as 
a  guard  of  honor,  don't  you  ?  The  only  things 
I  have  are  blazers  and  jerseys ;  but  it  does  n't 
much  matter  what  they  wear,  as  long  as  they 
dress  alike." 

He  accordingly  called  in  the  two  Bradleys, 
and  gave  them  each  a  pair  of  the  captain's  re 
jected  white  duck  trousers,  and  a  blue  jersey 
apiece,  with  a  big  white  Y  on  it. 

"The  students  of  Yale  gave  me  that,"  he 
said  to  the  younger  Bradley,  "  in  which  to 
play  football,  and  a  great  man  gave  me  the 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  143 

other.  His  name  is  Walter  Camp;  and  if 
you  rip  or  soil  that  jersey,  I  '11  send  you  back 
to  England  in  irons;  so  be  careful." 

Stedman  gazed  at  his  companions  in  their 
different  costumes,  doubtfully.  "  It  reminds 
me,"  he  said,  u  of  private  theatricals.  Of  the 
time  our  church  choir  played  '  Pinafore.'  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  Albert ;  "  but  I  don't  think 
we  look  quite  gay  enough.  1  tell  you  what  we 
nccd,  —  medals.  You  never  saw  a  diplomat 
without  a  lot  of  decorations  and  medals." 

"Well,  I  can  fix  that,"  Stedman  said. 
"  I  've  got  a  trunk-full.  I  used  to  be  the 
fastest  bicycle-rider  in  Connecticut,  and  I  've 
got  all  my  prizes  with  me." 
3  Albert  said  doubtfully  that  that  wasn't 
exactly  the  sort  of  medal  he  meant. 

"Perhaps  not,"  returned  Stedman,  as  he 
began  fumbling  in  his  trunk;  "but  the  King 
won't  know  the  difference.  He  could  n't  tell 
a  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor  from  a  medal 
for  the  tug  of  war." 

So  the  bicycle  medals,  of  which  Stedman 
seemed  to  have  an  innumerable  quantity, 
were  strung  in  profusion  over  Albert's  uni 
form,  and  in  a  lesser  quantity  over  Sted- 
man's ;  while  a  handful  of  leaden  ones,  those 


144  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

sold  on  the  streets  for  the  Constitutional 
Centennial,  with  which  Albert  had  provided 
himself,  were  wrapped  up  in  a  red  silk  hand 
kerchief  for  presentation  to  the  King  :  with 
them  Albert  placed  a  number  of  brass  rods 
and  brass  chains,  much  to  Stedman's  de 
lighted  approval. 

"  That  is  a  very  good  idea,"  he  said. 
"  Democratic  simplicity  is  the  right  thing 
at  home,  of  course ;  but  when  you  go 
abroad  and  mix  with  crowned  heads,  you 
want  to  show  them  that  you  know  what 's 
what." 

"  Well,"  said  Albert,  gravely,  "  I  sincerely 
hope  this  crowned  head  don't  know  what 's 
what.  If  he  reads  '  Connecticut  Agricultural 
State  Fair.  One  mile  bicycle  race.  First 
Prize,'  on  this  badge,  when  we  are  trying  to 
make  him  believe  it 's  a  war  medal,  it  may 
hurt  his  feelings."  , 

Bradley,  Jr.,  went  ahead  to  announce  the 
approach  of  the  American  embassy,  which 
he  did  with  so  much  manner  that  the  King 
deferred  the  audience  a  half-hour,  in  order 
that  he  might  better  prepare  to  receive  his 
visitors.  When  the  audience  did  take  place, 
it  attracted  the  entire  population  to  the  green 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  145 

spot  in  front  of  the  King's  palace,  and  their 
delight  and  excitement  over  the  appearance 
of  the  visitors  was  sincere  and  hearty.  The 
King  was  too  polite  to  appear  much  surprised, 
but  he  showed  his  delight  over  his  presents 
as  simply  and  openly  as  a  child.  Thrice  he 
insisted  on  embracing  Albert,  and  kissing 
him  three  times  on  the  forehead,  which,  Sted- 
nian  assured  him  in  a  side  whisper,  was  a 
great  honor;  an  honor  which  was  not  extended 
to  the  secretary,  although  he  was  given  a 
necklace  of  animals'  claws  instead,  with 
which  he  was  better  satisfied. 

After  this  reception,  the  embassy  marched 
back  to  the  consul's  office,  surrounded  by  an 
immense  number  of  the  natives,  some  of 
whom  ran  ahead  and  looked  back  at  them, 
and  crowded  so  close  that  the  two  Bradleys 
had  to  poke  at  those  nearest  with  their  guns. 
The  crowd  remained  outside  the  office  even 
after  the  procession  of  four  had  disappeared, 
and  cheered.  This  suggested  to  Gordon  that 
this  would  be  a  good  time  to  make  a  speech, 
which  he  accordingly  did,  Stedman  trans 
lating  it,  sentence  by  sentence.  At  the  con 
clusion  of  this  effort,  Albert  distributed  a 
number  of  brass  rings  among  the  married 
10 


146  TEE  REPORTER    WHO 

men  present,  which  they  placed  on  whichever 
finger  fitted  best,  and  departed  delighted. 

Albert  had  wished  to  give  the  rings  to  the 
married  women,  but  Stedinan  pointed  out  to 
him  that  it  would  be  much  cheaper  to  give 
them  to  the  married  men ;  for  while  one 
woman  could  only  have  one  husband,  one 
man  could  have  at  least  six  wives. 

uAnd  now,  Stedinan,"  said  Albert,  after 
the  mob  had  gone,  "tell  me  what  you  are 
doing  on  this  island." 

"  It 's  a  very  simple  story,"  Stedman  said. 
"I  am  the  representative,  or  agent,  or  op 
erator,  for  the  Yokohama  Cable  Company. 
The  Yokohama  Cable  Company  is  a  company 
organized  in  San  Francisco,  for  the  purpose 
of  laying  a  cable  to  Yokohama.  It  is  a  stock 
company;  and  though  it  started  out  very  well, 
the  stock  has  fallen  very  low.  Between  our 
selves,  it  is  not  worth  over  three  or  four  cents. 
When  the  officers  of  the  company  found  out 
that  no  one  would  buy  their  stock,  and  that 
no  one  believed  in  them  or  their  scheme,  they 
laid  a  cable  to  Octavia,  and  extended  it  on  to 
this  island.  Then  they  said  they  had  run  out 
of  ready  money,  and  would  wait  until  they 
got  more  before  laying  their  cable  any  fur- 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  147 

ther.  I  do  not  think  *they  ever  will  lay  it 
any  further,  but  that  is  none  of  my  business. 
My  business  is  to  answer  cable  messages 
from  San  Francisco,  so  that  the  people  who 
visit  the  home  office  can  see  that  at  least  a 
part  of  the  cable  is  working.  That  sometimes 
impresses  them,  and  they  buy  stock.  There 
is  another  chap  over  in  Octavia,  who  relays 
all  my  messages  and  all  my  replies  to  those 
messages  that  come  to  me  through  him  from 
San  Francisco.  They  never  send  a  message 
unless  they  have  brought  some  one  to  the 
office  whom  they  want  to  impress,  and  who, 
they  think,  has  money  to  invest  in  the  Y.  C. 
C.  stock,  and  so  we  never  go  near  the  wire, 
except  at  three  o'clock  every  afternoon.  And 
then  generally  only  to  say  '  How  are  you  ? ' 
or  'It's  raining,'  or  something  like  that. 
I've  been  saying 'It's  raining'  now  for  the 
last  three  months,  but  to-day  I  will  say  that 
the  new  consul  has  arrived.  That  will  be  a 
pleasant  surprise  for  the  chap  in  Octavia,  for 
he  must  be  tired  hearing  about  the  weather. 
He  generally  answers,  '  Here  too,'  or  '  So  you 
said,'  or  something  like  that.  I  don't  know 
what  he  says  to  the  home  office.  He 's 
brighter  than  I  am,  and  that 's  why  they  put 


148  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

him  between  the  two  ends.  He  can  see  that 
the  messages  are  transmitted  more  fully  and 
more  correctly,  in  a  way  to  please  possible 
subscribers." 

"  Sort  of  copy  editor,"  suggested  Albert. 

"  Yes,  something  of  that  sort,  I  fancy," 
said  Stedman. 

They  walked  down  to  the  little  shed  on 
the  shore,  where  the  Y.  C.  C.  office  was 
placed,  at  three  that  day,  and  Albert  watched 
Stedman  send  off  his  message  with  much 
interest.  The  "chap  at  Octavia,"  on  being 
informed  that  the  American  consul  had 
arrived  at  Opeki,  inquired,  somewhat  dis 
respectfully,  "  Is  it  a  life  sentence  ? " 

"  What  does  he  mean  by  that  ?  "  asked 
Albert. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  his  secretary,  doubtfully, 
"  that  he  thinks  it  a  sort  of  a  punishment  to 
be  sent  to  Opeki.  I  hope  you  won't  grow  to 
think  so." 

"  Opeki  is  all  very  well,"  said  Gordon, 
"  or  it  will  be  when  we  get  things  going  our 
way." 

As  they  walked  back  to  the  office,  Albert 
noticed  a  brass  cannon,  perched  on  a  rock 
at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor.  This  had 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  149 

been  put  there  by  the  last  consul,  but  it  had 
not  been  fired  for  many  years.  Albert  im 
mediately  ordered  the  two  Bradley s  to  get  it 
in  order,  and  to  rig  up  a  flag-pole  beside  it, 
for  one  of  his  American  flags,  which  they 
were  to  salute  every  night  when  they  lowered 
it  at  sundown. 

"  And  when  we  are  not  using  it,"  he  said, 
"  the  King  can  borrow  it  to  celebrate  with,  if 
he  does  n't  impose  on  us  too  often.  The  royal 
salute  ought  to  be  twenty-one  guns,  I  think ; 
but  that  would  use  up  too  much  powder,  so  he 
will  have  to  content  himself  with  two." 

"  Did  you  notice,"  asked  Stedman  that 
night,  as  they  sat  on  the  veranda  of  the 
consul's  house,  in  the  moonlight,  "how  the 
people  bowed  to  us  as  we  passed  ? " 

"  Yes,"  Albert  said  he  had  noticed  it. 
"Why?" 

"  Well,  they  never  saluted  me,"  replied 
Stedman.  "That  sign  of  respect  is  due  to 
the  show  we  made  at  the  reception." 

"  It  is  due  to  us,  in  any  event,"  said  the 
consul,  severely.  "  I  tell  you,  my  secretary, 
that  we,  as  the  representatives  of  the  United 
States  government,  must  be  properly  honored 
on  this  island.  We  must  become  a  power. 


150  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

And  we  must  do  so  without  getting  into 
trouble  with  the  King.  We  must  make  them 
honor  him,  too,  and  then  as  we  push  him  up, 
we  will  push  ourselves  up  at  the  same  time." 

"  They  don 't  think  much  of  consuls  in 
Opeki,"  said  Stedman,  doubtfully.  "  You 
see  the  last  one  was  a  pretty  poor  sort.  He 
brought  the  office  into  disrepute,  and  it 
wasn't  really  until  I  came  and  told  them 
what  a  fine  country  the  United  States  was, 
that  they  had  any  opinion  of  it  at  all.  Now 
we  must  change  all  that." 

"  That  is  just  what  we  will  do,"  said  Albert. 
"  We  will  transform  Opeki  into  a  powerful  and 
beautiful  city.  We  will  make  these  people 
work.  They  must  put  up  a  palace  for  the 
King,  and  lay  out  streets,  and  build  wharves, 
and  drain  the  town  properly,  and  light  it.  I 
have  n't  seen  this  patent  lighting  apparatus  of 
yours,  but  you  had  better  get  to  work  at  it  at 
once,  and  I  '11  persuade  the  King  to  appoint 
you  commissioner  of  highways  and  gas,  with 
authority  to  make  his  people  toil.  And  I," 
he  cried,  in  free  enthusiasm,  "  will  organize  a 
navy  and  a  standing  army.  Only,"  he  added, 
with  a  relapse  of  interest,  "  there  is  n't  any 
body  to  fight." 


M.\f>I-    HIMSELF  K/\i;  151 

"  There  is  n't  ?  "  said  Stcdman,  grimly,  with 
a  scornful  smile.  "  You  just  go  hunt  up  old 
Messenwah  and  the  Hillmen  with  your  stand 
ing  army  once,  and  you  '11  get  all  the  fighting 
yon  want." 

"  The  Hillmen  ?  "  said  Albert. 

"  The  Hillmen  are  the  natives  that  live  tip 
there  in  the  hills,"  Stcdman  said,  nodding  his 
head  towards  the  three  high  mountains  at  the 
other  end  of  the  island,  that  stood  out  blackly 
against  the  purple,  moonlit  sky.  "  There  are 
nearly  as  many  of  them  as  there  are  Opekians, 
and  they  hunt  and  fight  for  a  living  and  for 
the  pleasure  of  it.  They  have  an  old  rascal 
named  Messenwah  for  a  king,  and  they  come 
down  here  about  once  every  three  months, 
and  tear  things  up." 

Albert  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  they  do,  do  they  ?"  lie  said,  staring 
up  at  the  mountain  tops.  "  They  come  down 
here  and  tear  up  things,  do  they  ?  Well,  I 
think  we  '11  stop  that,  I  think  we  '11  stop  that ! 
I  don't  care  how  many  there  are.  I'll  get 
the  two  Bradleys  to  tell  me  all  they  know 
about  drilling,  to-morrow  morning,  and  we  '11 
drill  these  Opekians,  and  have  sham  battles, 
and  attacks,  and  repulses,  until  I  make  a  lot 


152  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

of  wild,  howling  Zulus  out  of  them.  And 
when  the  Hillmen  come  down  to  pay  their 
quarterly  visit,  they  '11  go  back  again  on  a 
run.  At  least  some  of  them  will,"  he  added 
ferociously.  "  Some  of  them  will  stay  right 
here." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me  !  "  said  Stedman,  with 
awe  ;  "  you  are  a  born  fighter,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  wait  and  see,"  said  Gordon  ; 
"  may  be  I  am.  I  haven't  studied  tactics  of 
war  and  the  history  of  battles,  so  that  I  might 
be  a  great  war  correspondent,  without  learn 
ing  something.  And  there  is  only  one  king 
on  this  island,  and  that  is  old  Ollypybus 
himself.  And  I'll  go  over  arid  have  a  talk 
with  him  about  it  to-morrow." 

Young  Stedman  walked  up  and  down  the 
length  of  the  veranda,  in  and  out  of  the 
moonlight,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  his  head  on  his  chest.  "  You  have  me 
all  stirred  up,  Gordon,"  he  said  ;  "  you  seem 
so  confident  and  bold,  and  you  're  not  so 
much  older  than  I  am,  either." 

"  My  training  has  been  different ;  that 's 
all,"  said  the  reporter. 

"  Yes,"  Stedman  said  bitterly ;  "  I  have 
been  sitting  in  an  office  ever  since  I  left 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  153 

school,  sending  news  over  a  wire  or  a  cable, 
and  you  have  been  out  in  the  world,  gather 
ing  it." 

"  And  now,"  said  Gordon,  smiling,  and 
putting  his  arm  around  the  other  boy's 
shoulders,  "  we  are  going  to  make  news 
ourselves." 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  want  to  say  to  you 
before  you  turn  in,"  said  Stedman.  u  Before 
you  suggest  all  these  improvements  on  Olly- 
pybus,  you  must  remember  that  he  has  ruled 
absolutely  here  for  twenty  years,  and  that  he 
does  not  think  much  of  consuls.  He  has 
only  seen  your  predecessor  and  yourself.  He 
likes  you  because  you  appeared  with  such 
dignity,  and  because  of  the  presents  ;  but  if 
I  were  you,  I  would  n't  suggest  these  im 
provements  as  coming  from  yourself." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  said  Gordon  ;  "  who 
could  they  come  from  ?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Stedman,  "  if  you  will  allow 
me  to  advise,  —  and  you  see  I  know  these 
people  pretty  well,  —  I  would  have  all  these 
suggestions  come  from  the  President  direct." 

u  The  President ! "  exclaimed  Gordon ;  u  but 
how  ?  what  does  the  President  know  or  care 
about  Opeki  ?  and  it  would  take  so  long — • 


154  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

oh,  I  see,  the  cable.  Is  that  what  you  have 
been  doing  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Well,  only  once,"  said  Stedman,  guiltily ; 
"  that  was  when  he  wanted  to  turn  me  out  of 
the  consul's  office,  and  I  had  a  cable  that  very 
afternoon,  from  the  President,  ordering  me  to 
stay  where  I  was.  Ollypybus  does  n't  under 
stand  the  cable,  of  course,  but  he  knows  that 
it  sends  messages ;  and  sometimes  I  pretend 
to  send  messages  for  him  to  the  President; 
but  he  began  asking  me  to  tell  the  President 
to  come  and  pay  him  a  visit,  and  I  had  to 
stop  it." 

"  I  'm  glad  you  told  me,"  said  Gordon. 
"The  President  shall  begin  to  cable  to-mor 
row.  He  will  need  an  extra  appropriation 
from  Congress  to  pay  for  his  private  cable 
grams  alone." 

"  And  there 's  another  thing,"  said  Sted 
man.  "  In  all  your  plans,  you  've  arranged 
for  the  people's  improvement,  but  not  for 
their  amusement;  and  they  are  a  peaceful, 
jolly,  simple  sort  of  people,  and  we  must 
please  them." 

"  Have  they  no  games  or  amusements  of 
their  own?"  asked  Gordon. 

"  Well,  not  what  we  would  call  games." 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  155 

"Very  well,  then,  I'll  teach  them  base 
ball.  Foot-ball  would  be  too  warm.  But 
that  plaza  in  front  of  the  King's  bungalow, 
where  his  palace  is  going  to  be,  is  just  the 
place  for  a  diamond.  Oil  the  whole,  though," 
added  the  consul,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"you'd  better  attend  to  that  yourself.  I 
don't  think  it  becomes  my  dignity  as  Ameri 
can  consul  to  take  off  my  coat  and  give  les 
sons  to  young  Opekians  in  sliding  to  bases; 
do  you  ?  No ;  I  think  you  M  better  do  that. 
The  Bradleys  will  help  you,  and  you  had 
better  begin  to-morrow.  You  have  been 
wanting  to  know  what  a  secretary  of  lega 
tion's  duties  are,  and  now  you  know.  It 's  to 
organize  base-ball  nines.  And  after  you  get 
yours  ready,"  he  added,  as  he  turned  into  his 
room  for  the  night,  "  I  '11  train  one  that  will 
sweep  yours  off  the  face  of  the  island.  For 
this  American  consul  can  pitch  three  curves." 

The  best-laid  plans  of  men  go  far  astray, 
sometimes,  and  the  great  and  beautiful  city 
that  was  to  rise  on  the  coast  of  Opeki  was 
not  built  in  a  day.  Nor  was  it  ever  built. 
For  before  the  Bradleys  could  mark  out  the 
foul-lines  for  the  base-ball  field  on  the  plaza, 
or  teach  their  standing  army  the  goose  step, 


156  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

or  lay  bamboo  pipes  for  the  water-mains,  or 
clear  away  the  cactus  for  the  extension  of  the 
King's  palace,  the  Hillmen  paid  Opeki  their 
quarterly  visit. 

Albert  had  called  on  the  King  the  next 
morning,  with  Stedman  as  his  interpreter,  as 
he  had  said  he  would,  and,  with  maps  and 
sketches,  had  shown  his  Majesty  what  he 
proposed  to  do  towards  improving  Opeki  and 
ennobling  her  king,  and  when  the  King  saw 
Albert's  free-hand  sketches  of  wharves  with 
tall  ships  lying  at  anchor,  and  rows  of  Ope- 
kian  warriors  with  the  Bradleys  at  their 
head,  and  the  design  for  his  new  palace,  and 
a  royal  sedan-chair,  he  believed  that  these 
things  were  already  his,  and  not  still  only  on 
paper,  and  he  appointed  Albert  his  Minister 
of  War,  Stedman  his  Minister  of  Home 
Affairs,  and  selected  two  of  his  wisest  and 
oldest  subjects  to  serve  them  as  joint  ad 
visers.  His  enthusiasm  was  even  greater 
than  Gordon's,  because  he  did  not  appreciate 
the  difficulties.  He  thought  Gordon  a  semi- 
god,  a  worker  of  miracles,  and  urged  the 
putting  up  of  a  monument  to  him  at  once  in 
the  public  plaza,  to  which  Albert  objected,  on 
the  ground  that  it  would  be  too  suggestive  of 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  157 

an  idol ;  and  to  which  Stedman  also  objected, 
but  for  the  less  unselfish  reason  that  it  would 
u  be  in  the  way  of  the  pitcher's  box." 

They  were  feverishly  discussing  all  these 
great  changes,  and  Stedman  was  translating 
as  rapidly  as  he  could  translate,  the  speeches 
of  four  different  men, —  for  the  two  counsel 
lors  had  been  called  in,  all  of  whom  wanted 
to  speak  at  once,  —  when  there  came  from 
outside  a  great  shout,  and  the  screams  of 
women,  and  the  clashing  of  iron,  and  the  pat 
tering  footsteps  of  men  running. 

As  they  looked  at  one  another  in  startled 
surprise,  a  native  ran  into  the  room,  followed 
by  Bradley,  Jr.,  and  threw  himself  down 
before  the  King.  While  he  talked,  beating 
his  hands  and  bowing  before  Ollypybus, 
Bradley,  Jr.,  pulled  his  forelock  to  the  con 
sul,  and  told  how  this  man  lived  on  the  far 
outskirts  of  the  village ;  how  he  had  been 
captured  while  out  hunting,  by  a  number  of 
the  Hillmen  ;  and  how  he  had  escaped  to 
tell  the  people  that  their  old  enemies  were 
on  the  war  path  again,  and  rapidly  approach 
ing  the  village. 

Outside,  the  women  were  gathering  in  the 
plaza,  with  the  children  about  them,  and  the 


158  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

men  were  running  from  hut  to  hut,  warning 
their  fellows,  and  arming  themselves  with 
spears  and  swords,  and  the  native  bows  and 
arrows. 

"  They  might  have  waited  until  we  had 
that  army  trained,"  said  Gordon,  in  a  tone  of 
the  keenest  displeasure.  "  Tell  me,  quick, 
what  do  they  generally  do  when  they  come  ? " 

"  Steal  all  the  cattle  and  goats,  and  a 
woman  or  two,  and  set  fire  to  the  huts  in  the 
outskirts,"  replied  Stedman. 

"Well,  we  must  stop  them,"  said  Gordon, 
jumping  up.  "  We  must  take  out  a  flag  of 
truce  and  treat  with  them.  They  must  be 
kept  off  until  I  have  my  army  in  working 
order.  It  is  most  inconvenient.  If  they  had 
only  waited  two  months,  now,  or  six  weeks 
even,  we  could  have  done  something ;  but 
now  we  must  make  peace.  Tell  the  King 
we  are  going  out  to  fix  things  with  them, 
and  tell  him  to  keep  off  his  warriors  until  he 
learns  whether  we  succeed  or  fail." 

"  But,  Gordon  !  "  gasped  Stedman.  "Albert ! 
YOU  don't  understand.  Why,  man,  this  is  n't 
a  street  fight  or  a  cane  rush.  They  '11  stick 
you  full  of  spears,  dance  on  your  body,  and 
eat  you,  maybe.  A  flag  of  truce  !  —  you  're 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  159 

talking  nonsense.  What  do  they  know  of  a 
flag  of  truce?" 

"You're  talking  nonsense,  too,"  said 
Albert,  "  and  you  're  talking  to  your  superior 
officer.  If  you  are  not  with  me  in  this,  go 
back  to  your  cable,  and  tell  the  man  in  Oc- 
tavia  that  it's  a  warm  day,  and  that  the 
sun  is  shining ;  but  if  you  Ve  any  spirit  in 
you,  —  and  I  think  you  have*,  —  run  to  the 
office  and  get  my  Winchester  rifles,  and  the 
two  shot  guns,  and  my  revolvers,  and  my 
uniform,  and  a  lot  of  brass  things  for  presents, 
and  run  all  the  way  there  and  back.  And 
make  time.  Play  you  're  riding  a  bicycle  at 
the  Agricultural  Fair." 

Stedman  did  not  hear  this  last  ;  for  he  was 
already  off  and  away,  pushing  through  the 
crowd,  and  calling  on  Bradley,  Sr.,  to  follow 
him.  Bradley,  Jr.,  looked  at  Gordon  with 
eyes  that  snapped,  like  a  dog  that  is  waiting 
for  his  master  to  throw  a  stone. 

"  I  can  fire  a  Winchester,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  Old  Tom  can't.  He 's  no  good  at  long 
range  'cept  with  a  big  gun,  sir.  Don't  give 
him  the  Winchester.  Give  it  to  me,  please, 
sir." 

Albert   met    Stedman    in   the   plaza,   and 


160  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

pulled  off  his  blazer,  and  put  on  Captain 
Travis's  —  now  his  —  uniform  coat,  and  his 
white  pith  helmet. 

"  Now,  Jack,"  he  said,  "  get  up  there  and 
tell  these  people  that  we  are  going  out  to 
make  peace  with  these  Hillmen,  or  bring 
them  back  prisoners  of  war.  Tell  them  we 
are  the  preservers  of  their  homes  and  wives 
and  children ;  and  you,  Bradley,  take  these 
presents,  and  young  Bradley,  keep  close  to 
me,  and  carry  this  rifle." 

Stedmari's  speech  was  hot  and  wild  enough 
to  suit  a  critical  and  feverish  audience  before 
a  barricade  in  Paris.  And  when  he  was 
through,  Gordon  and  Bradley  punctuated 
his  oration  by  firing  off  the  two  Winchester 
rifles  in  the  air,  at  which  the  people  jumped 
and  fell  on  their  knees,  and  prayed  to  their 
several  gods.  The  fighting  men  of  the  village 
followed  the  four  white  men  to  the  outskirts, 
and  took  up  their  stand  there  as  Stedman  told 
them  to  do,  and  the  four  walked  on  over  the 
roughly  hewn  road,  to  meet  the  enemy. 

Gordon  walked  with  Bradley,  Jr.,  in  ad 
vance.  Stedman  and  old  Tom  Bradley 
followed  close  behind,  with  the  two  shot 
guns,  and  the  presents  in  a  basket. 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  161 

rt  Are  these  Hillmen  used  to  guns  ? "  asked 
Gordon.  Stedman  said  no,  they  were  not. 

"  This  shot-gun  of  mine  is  the  only  one 
on  the  island,"  he  explained,  "  and  we  never 
came  near  enough  them,  before,  to  do  anything 
with  it.  It  only  carries  a  hundred  yards.  The 
Opekians  never  make  any  show  of  resistance. 
They  are  quite  content  if  the  Hillmen  satisfy 
themselves  with  the  outlying  huts,  as  long 
as  they  leave  them  and  the  town  alone  ;  so 
they  seldom  come  to  close  quarters." 

The  four  men  walked  on  for  a  half  an  hour 
or  so,  in  silence,  peering  eagerly  on  every 
side ;  but  it  was  not  until  they  had  left  the 
woods  and  marched  out  into  the  level  stretch 
of  grassy  country,  that  they  came  upon  the 
enemy.  The  Hillmen  were  about  forty  in 
number,  and  were  as  savage  and  ugly-looking 
giants  as  any  in  a  picture  book.  They  had 
captured  a  dozen  cows  and  goats,  and  were 
driving  them  on  before  them,  as  they  ad 
vanced  further  upon  the  village.  When  they 
saw  the  four  men,  they  gave  a  mixed  chorus 
of  cries  and  yells,  and  some  of  them  stopped, 
and  others  ran  forward,  shaking  their  spears, 
and  shooting  their  broad  arrows  into  the 
ground  before  them.  A  tall,  gray-bearded, 
11 


162  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

muscular  old  man,  with  a  skirt  of  feathers 
about  him,  and  necklaces  of  bones  and  ani 
mals'  claws  around  his  bare  chest,  ran  in 
front  of  them,  and  seemed  to  be  trying  to 
make  them  approach  more  slowly. 

"  Is  that  Messenwah  ? "  asked  Gordon. 

"  Yes,"  said  Stedman ;  "  he  is  trying  to 
keep  them  back.  I  don't  believe  he  ever  saw 
a  white  man  before." 

"  Stedman,"  said  Albert,  speaking  quickly, 
"  give  your  gun  to  Bradley,  and  go  forward 
with  your  arms  in  the  air,  and  waving  your 
handkerchief,  and  tell  them  in  their  language 
that  the  King  is  coming.  If  they  go  at  you, 
Bradley  and  I  will  kill  a  goat  or  two,  to 
show  them  what  we  can  do  with  the  rifles ; 
and  if  that  don't  stop  them,  we  will  shoot  at 
their  legs ;  and  if  that  don't  stop  them  —  I 
guess  you  'd  better  come  back,  and  we  '11  all 
run." 

Stedman  looked  at  Albert,  and  Albert 
looked  at  Stedman,  and  neither  of  them 
winced  or  flinched. 

u  Is  this  another  of  my  secretary's  duties  ? " 
asked  the  younger  boy. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  consul ;  "  but  a  resignation 
is  always  in  order.  You  need  n't  go  if  you 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  163 

don't  like  it.  You  see,  you  know  the  lan 
guage  and  I  don't,  but  I  know  how  to  shoot, 
and  you  don't." 

"That's  perfectly  satisfactory,"  said  Sted- 
man,  handing  his  gun  to  old  Bradley.  "  I 
only  wanted  to  know  why  I  was  to  be  sacri 
ficed,  instead  of  one  of  the  Bradleys.  It 's 
because  I  know  the  language.  Bradley,  Sr., 
you  see  the  evil  results  of  a  higher  education. 
Wish  me  luck,  please,"  he  said,  "and  for 
goodness'  sake,"  he  added  impressively, 
"  don't  waste  much  time  shooting  goats." 

The  Hillmcn  had  stopped  about  two  hun 
dred  yards  off,  and  were  drawn  up  in  two 
lines,  shouting,  and  dancing,  and  hurling 
taunting  remarks  at  their  few  adversaries. 
The  stolen  cattle  were  bunched  together  back 
of  the  King.  As  Stedman  walked  steadily 
forward  with  his  handkerchief  fluttering,  and 
howling  out  something  in  their  own  tongue, 
they  stopped  and  listened.  As  he  advanced, 
his  three  companions  followed  him  at  about 
fifty  yards  in  the  rear.  He  was  one  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  from  the  Ilillnien,  before  they 
made  out  what  he  said,  and  then  one  of  the 
young  braves,  resenting  it  as  an  insult  to  his 
chief,  shot  an  arrow  at  him.  Stedman  dodged 


164  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

the  arrow,  and  stood  his  ground  without  even 
taking  a  step  backwards,  only  turning  slightly 
to  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth,  and  to  shout 
something  which  sounded  to  his  companions 
like,  "  About  time  to  begin  on  the  goats."  But 
the  instant  the  young  man  had  fired,  King 
Messenwah  swung  his  club  and  knocked  him 
down,  and  none  of  the  others  moved.  Then 
Messenwah  advanced  before  his  men  to  meet 
Stedman,  and  on  Stedman's  opening  and 
shutting  his  hands  to  show  that  he  was  un 
armed,  the  King  threw  down  his  club  and 
spears,  and  came  forward  as  empty-handed 
as  himself. 

"  Ah,"  gasped  Bradle}7,  Jr.,  with  his  finger 
trembling  on  his  lever,  u  let  me  take  a  shot 
at  him  now."  Gordon  struck  the  man's  gun 
up,  and  walked  forward  in  all  the  glory 
of  his  gold  and  blue  uniform ;  for  both  he 
and  Stedman  saw  now  that  Messenwah  was 
more  impressed  by  their  appearance,  and  in 
the  fact  that  they  were  white  men,  than  with 
any  threats  of  immediate  war.  So  when  he 
saluted  Gordon  haughtily,  that  young  man 
gave  him  a  haughty  nod  in  return,  and  bade 
Stedman  tell  the  King  that  he  would  permit 
him  to  sit  down.  The  King  did  not  quite 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  165 

appear  to  like  this,  but  he  sat  down,  never 
theless,  and  nodded  his  head  gravely. 

"  Xow  tell  him,"  said  Gordon,  "  that  I 
come  from  the  ruler  of  the  greatest  nation  on 
earth,  and  that  I  recognize  Ollypybus  as  the 
only  King  of  this  island,  and  that  I  come  to 
this  little  three-penny  King  with  either  peace 
and  presents,  or  bullets  and  war." 

"  Have  I  got  to  tell  him  he 's  a  little  three 
penny  King?"  said  Stedman,  plaintively. 

"  No ;  you  need  n't  give  a  literal  translation ; 
it  can  be  as  free  as  you  please." 

"  Thanks,"  said  the  secretary,  humbly. 

"  And  tell  him,"  continued  Gordon,  u  that 
we  will  give  presents  to  him  and  his  warriors 
if  he  keeps  away  from  Ollypybus,  and  agrees 
to  keep  away  always.  If  he  won't  do  that, 
try  to  get  him  to  agree  to  stay  away  for  three 
months  at  least,  and  by  that  time  we  can  get 
word  to  San  Francisco,  and  have  a  dozen  mus 
kets  over  here  in  two  months  ;  and  when  our 
time  of  probation  is  up,  and  he  and  his  merry 
men  come  dancing  down  the  hillside,  we  will 
blow  them  up  as  high  as  his  mountains.  But 
you  need  n't  tell  him  that,  either.  And  if  he 
is  proud  and  haughty,  and  would  rr-Iier  fight, 
ask  him  to  restrain  himself  until  we  show 


166  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

what  we  can  do  with  our  weapons  at  two  hun 
dred  yards." 

Stead  man  seated  himself  in  the  long  grass 
in  front  of  the  King,  and  with  many  revolving 
gestures  of  his  arms,  and  much  pointing  at 
Gordon,  and  profound  nods  and  bows,  retold 
what  Gordon  had  dictated.  When  he  had  fin 
ished,  the  King  looked  at  the  bundle  of  pres 
ents,  and  at  the  guns,  of  which  Stedman  had 
given  a  very  wonderful  account,  but  answered' 
nothing. 

"  I  guess,"  said  Stedman,  with  a  sigh, "  that 
we  will  have  to  give  "him  a  little  practical  dem 
onstration  to  help  matters.  I  am  sorry,  but 
I  think  one  of  those  goats  has  got  to  die.  It 's 
like  vivisection.  The  lower  order  of  animals 
have  to  suffer  for  the  good  of  the  higher." 

"  Oh,"  said  Bradley,  Jr.,  cheerfully,  "  I  'd 
just  as  soon  shoot  one  of  those  niggers  as  one 
of  the  goats." 

So  Stedman  bade  the  King  tell  his  men  to 
drive  a  goat  towards  them,  and  the  King  did 
so,  and  one  of  the  men  struck  one  of  the  goats 
with  his  spear,  and  it  ran  clumsily  across  the 
plain. 

"Take  your  time,  Bradley,"  said  Gordon. 
"  Aim  low,  and  if  you  hit  it,  you  can  have  it 
for  supper.'' 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  167 

u  And  if  you  miss  it,"  said  Stedman,  gloom 
ily,  <k  Messenwah  may  have  us  for  supper." 

The  Hillmen  had  seated  themselves  a  hun 
dred  yards  off,  while  the  leaders  were  debating, 
and  they  now  rose  curiously  and  watched 
Bradley,  as  he  sank  upon  one  knee,  and  cov 
ered  the  goat  with  his  rifle.  When  it  was 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  off,  he  fired, 
and  the  goat  fell  over  dead. 

And  then  all  the  Hillmen,  with  the  King 

himself,  broke  away  on  a  run,  towards  the 

dead  animal,  with  much  shouting.     The  King 

came  back  alone,  leaving  his  people  standing 

about  and  examining  the  goat.     He  was  much 

excited,  and  talked  and  gesticulated  violently. 

"  He  says  —  "  said  Stedman;  "he says  —  " 

"  What  ?  yes  ;  go  on." 

"  He  says  —  goodness  me  !  —  what  do  you 

think  he  says  ?  " 

"  Well,  what  does  he  say  ?  "  cried  Gordon, 
in  great  excitement.  "  Don't  keep  it  all  to 
yourself." 

"  He  says,"  said  Stedman,  "  that  we  are 
deceived.  That  he  is  no  longer  King  of  the 
Island  of  Opeki,  that  he  is  in  great  fear  of  us, 
and  that  he  has  got  himself  into  no  end  of 
trouble.  He  says  he  sees  that  we  are  indeed 


168  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

mighty  men,  that  to  us  he  is  as  helpless  as  the 
wild  boar  before  the  javelin  of  the  hunter." 

"Well,  he's  right,"  said  Gordon.  "Go 
on." 

"  But  that  which  we  ask  is  no  longer  his  to 
give.  He  has  sold  his  kingship  and  his  right 
to  this  island  to  another  king,  who  came  to 
him  two  days  ago  in  a  great  canoe,  and  who 
made  noises  as  we  do,  —  with  guns,  I  suppose 
he  means,  —  and  to  whom  he  sold  the  island 
for  a  watch  that  he  has  in  a  bag  around  his 
neck.  And  that  he  signed  a  paper,  and  made 
marks  on  a  piece  of  bark,  to  show  that  he  gave 
up  the  island  freely  and  forever." 

"  What  does  he  mean  ? "  said  Gordon. 
"  How  can  he  give  up  the  island  ?  Ollypybus 
is  the  king  of  half  of  it,  anyway,  and  he  knows 
it." 

"  That 's  just  it,"  said  Stedman.  "That's 
what  frightens  him.  He  said  he  did  n't  care 
about  Ollypybus,  and  did  n't  count  him  in 
when  he  made  the  treaty,  because  he  is  such 
a  peaceful  chap  that  he  knew  he  could  thrash 
him  into  doing  anything  he  wanted  him  to 
do.  And  now  that  you  have  turned  up  and 
taken  Ollypybus's  part,  he  wishes  he  had  n't 
sold  the  island,  and  wishes  to  know  if  you  are 
angry." 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  .  169 

"  Angry  ?  of  course  I  'm  angry,"  said  Gor 
don,  glaring  as  grimly  at  the  frightened  mon 
arch  as  he  thought  was  safe.  "  Who  would  n't 
be  angry  ?  Who  do  you  thing  these  people 
were  who  made  a  fool  of  him,  Stedman  ?  Ask 
him  to  let  us  see  this  watch." 

Stedman  did  so,  and  the  King  fumbled 
among  his  necklaces  until  he  had  brought 
out  a  leather  bag  tied  round  his  neck  with  a 
cord,  and  containing  a  plain  stem-winding 
silver  watch  marked  on  the  inside  "  Munich." 

"  That  does  n't  tell  anything, "  said  Gordon. 
"But  it's  plain  enough.  Some  foreign  ship 
of  war  has  settled  on  this  place  as  a  coaling- 
station,  or  has  annexed  it  for  colonization, 
and  they  've  sent  a  boat  ashore,  and  they  've 
made  a  treaty  with  this  old  chap,  and  forced 
him  to  sell  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of  por 
ridge.  Now,  that 's  just  like  those  monar 
chical  pirates,  imposing  upon  a  poor  old 
black." 

Old  Bradley  looked  at  him  impudently. 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Gordon;  "it's  quite 
different  with  us;  we  don't  want  to  rob  him 
or  Ollypybus,  or  to  annex  their  land.  All 
we  want  to  do  is  to  improve  it,  and  have  the 
fun  of  running  it  for  them  and  meddling  in 


170  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

their  affairs  of  state.  Well,  Stcdman,"  he 
said,  "what  shall  we  do?" 

Stedman  said  that  the  best  and  only  thing 
to  do  was  to  threaten  to  take  the  watch  away 
from  Messenwah,  but  to  give  him  a  revolver 
instead,  which  would  make  a  friend  of  him 
for  life,  and  to  keep  him  supplied  with 
cartridges  only  as  long  as  he  behaved  him 
self,  and  then  to  make  him  understand  that, 
as  Ollypybus  had  not  given  his  consent  to 
the  loss  of  the  island,  Messenwah's  agree 
ment,  or  treaty,  or  whatever  it  was,  did  not 
stand,  and  that  he  had  better  come  down  the 
next  day,  early  in  the  morning,  and  join  in 
a  general  consultation.  This  was  done,  and 
Messenwah  agreed  willingly  to  their  proposi 
tion,  and  was  given  his  revolver  and  shown 
how  to  shoot  it,  while  the  other  presents 
were  distributed  among  the  other  men,  who 
were  as  happy  over  them  as  girls  with  a  full 
dance-card. 

"And  now,  to-morrow,"  said  Stedman, 
"understand,  you  are  all  to  come  down 
unarmed,  and  sign  a  treaty  with  great 
Ollypybus,  in  which  he  will  agree  to  keep  to 
one  half  of  the  island,  if  you  keep  to  yours, 
and  there  must  be  no  more  wars  or  goat 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  171 

stealing,  or  this  gentleman  on  my  right  and 
I  will  come  up  and  put  holes  in  you  just  as 
the  gentleman  on  the  left  did  with  the 
goat." 

Messenwah  and  his  warriors  promised  to 
come  early,  and  saluted  reverently  as  Gordon 
and  his  three  companions  walked  up  together 
very  proudly  and  stiffly. 

"  Do  you  know  how  I  feel  ?  "  said  Gordon. 

"How?"  asked  Stedman. 

"  I  feel  as  I  used  to  do  in  the  city,  when 
the  hoys  in  the  street  were  throwing  snow- 
halls,  and  I  had  to  go  by  with  a  high  hat  on 
my  head  and  pretend  not  to  know  they  were 
behind  me.  I  always  felt  a  cold  chill  down 
my  spinal  column,  and  I  could  feel  that 
snow-ball,  whether  it  came  or  not,  right  in 
the  small  of  my  back.  And  I  can  feel  one 
of  those  men  pulling  his  bow,  now,  and  the 
arrow  sticking  out  of  my  right  shoulder." 

"Oh,  no,  you  can't,"  said  Stedman. 
"They  are  too  much  afraid  of  those  rifles. 
But  I  do  feel  sorry  for  any  of  those  warriors 
whom  old  man  Massenwah  does  n't  like,  now 
that  he  has  that  revolver.  He  is  n't  the  sort 
to  practise  on  goats. " 

There  was  great  rejoicing  when  Stedman. 


172  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

and  Gordon  told  their  story  to  the  King,  and 
the  people  learned  that  they  were  not  to  have 
their  huts  burned  and  their  cattle  stolen. 
The  armed  Opekians  formed  a  guard  around 
the  ambassadors  and  escorted  them  to  their 
homes  with  cheers  and  shouts,  and  the 
women  ran  at  their  side  and  tried  to  kiss 
Gordon's  hand. 

"  I  'm  sorry  I  can't  speak  the  language, 
Stedman,"  said  Gordon,  "or  I  would  tell 
them  what  a  brave  man  you  are.  You  are 
too  modest  to  do  it  yourself,  even  if  I  dic 
tated  something  for  you  to  say.  As  for  me," 
he  said,  pulling  off  his  uniform,  "I  am 
thoroughly  disgusted  and  disappointed.  It 
never  occurred  to  me  until  it  was  all  over, 
that  this  was  my  chance  to  be  a  war  corre 
spondent.  It  would  n't  have  been  much  of  a 
war,  but  then  I  would  have  been  the  only 
one  on  the  spot,  and  that  counts  for  a  great 
deal.  Still,  my  time  may  come." 

"We  have  a  great  deal  on  hand  for  to 
morrow,"  said  Gordon  that  evening,  "and 
we  had  better  turn  in  early." 

And  so  the  people  were  still  singing  and 
rejoicing  down  in  the  village,  when  the  two 
conspirators  for  the  peace  of  the  country 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  173 

went  to  sleep  for  the  night.  It  seemed  to 
Gordon  as  though  he  had  hardly  turned  his 
pillow  twice  to  get  the  coolest  side,  when 
some  one  touched  him,  and  he  saw,  by  the 
light  of  the  dozen  glow-worms  in  the  tumbler 
by  his  bedside,  a  tall  figure  at  its  foot. 

"It 's  me —  Bradley,"  said  the  figure. 

"Yes,"  said  Gordon,  with  the  haste  of  a 
man  to  show  that  sleep  has  no  hold  on  him ; 
"exactly;  what  is  it?" 

"There  is  a  ship  of  war  in  the  harbor," 
Bradley  answered  in  a  whisper.  "  I  heard 
her  anchor  chains  rattle  when  she  came  to, 
and  that  woke  me.  I  could  hear  that  if  I 
were  dead.  And  then  I  made  sure  by  her 
lights ;  she  's  a  great  boat,  sir,  and  1  can 
know  she  's  a  ship  of  war  by  the  challenging, 
when  they  change  the  watch.  I  thought 
you'd  like  to  know,  sir." 

Gordon  sat  up  and  clutched  his  knees 
with  his  hands.  "Yes,  of  course,"  he  said; 
"you  are  quite  right.  Still,  I  don't  see  what 
there  is  to  do. " 

He  did  not  wish  to  show  too  much  youthful 
interest,  but  though  fresh  from  civilization, 
he  had  learned  how  far  from  it  he  was,  and  he 
was  curious  to  see  this  sign  of  it  that  had 


174  THE  REPORTER   WHO 

come  so  much  more  quickly  than  he  had 
anticipated. 

"  Wake  Mr.  Stedman,  will  you  ?  "  said  he, 
"and  we  will  go  and  take  a  look  at  her." 

"You  can  see  nothing  but  the  lights," 
said  Bradley,  as  he  left  the  room;  "it's  a 
black  night,  sir." 

Stedman  was  not  new  from  the  sight  of 
men  and  ships  of  war,  and  came  in  half 
dressed  and  eager. 

"  Do  you  suppose  it 's  the  big  canoe 
Messenwah  spoke  of  ?  "  he  said. 

"I  thought  of  that,"  said  Gordon. 

The  three  men  fumbled  their  way  down 
the  road  to  the  plaza,  and  saw,  as  soon  as 
they  turned  into  it,  the  great  outlines  and 
the  brilliant  lights  of  an  immense  vessel, 
still  more  immense  in  the  darkness,  and 
glowing  like  a  strange  monster  of  the  sea, 
with  just  a  suggestion  here  and  there,  where 
the  lights  spread,  of  her  cabins  and  bridges. 
As  they  stood  on  the  shore,  shivering  in  the 
cool  night  wind,  they  heard  the  bells  strike 
over  the  water. 

"It's  two  o'clock,"  said  Bradley,  count 
ing. 

"  Well,  we  can  do  nothing,  and  they  can- 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  175 

not  mean  to  do  much  to-night,"  Albert  said. 
"  We  had  better  get  some  more  sleep,  and, 
Bradley,  you  keep  watch  and  tell  us  as  soon 
as  day  breaks." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  said  the  sailor. 

"Tf  that's  the  man-of-war  that  made  the 
treaty  with  Messenwah,  and  Messenwah  turns 
up  to-morrow,  it  looks  as  if  our  day  would 
be  pretty  well  filled  up,"  said  Albert,  as 
they  felt  their  way  back  to  the  darkness. 

"  What  do  you  intend  to  do  ?  "  asked  his 
secretary,  with  a  voice  of  some  concern. 

"I  don't  know,"  Albert  answered  gravely, 
from  the  blackness  of  the  night.  "It  looks 
as  if  we  were  getting  ahead  just  a  little  too 
fast;  does  n't  it  ?  Well,"  he  added,  as  they 
reached  the  house,  "  let 's  try  to  keep  in  step 
with  the  procession,  even  if  we  can't  be 
drum-majors  and  walk  in  front  of  it."  And 
with  this  cheering  tone  of  confidence  in 
their  ears,  the  two  diplomats  went  soundly 
asleep  again. 

The  light  of  the  rising  sun  filled  the  room, 
and  the  parrots  were  chattering  outside, 
when  Bradley  woke  him  again. 

"They  are  sending  a  boat  ashore,  sir,"  he 
said  excitedly,  and  filled  with  the  impor- 


176  THE  REPORTER   WHO 

tance  of  the  occasion.  "  She  's  a  German 
man-of-war,  and  one  of  the  new  model.  A 
beautiful  boat,  sir;  for  her  lines  were  laid  in 
Glasgow,  and  I  can  tell  that,  no  matter 
what  flag  she  flies.  You  had  best  be  mov 
ing  to  meet  them :  the  village  is  n't  awake 
yet." 

Albert  took  a  cold  bath  and  dressed 
leisurely;  then  he  made  Bradley,  Jr.,  who 
had  slept  through  it  all,  get  up  breakfast, 
and  the  two  young  men  ate  it  and  drank 
their  coffee  comfortably  and  with  an  air  of 
confidence  that  deceived  their  servants,  if  it 
did  not  deceive  themselves.  But  when  they 
came  down  the  path,  smoking  and  swinging 
their  sticks,  and  turned  into  the  plaza,  their 
composure  left  them  like  a  mask,  and  they 
stopped  where  they  stood.  The  plaza  was 
enclosed  by  the  natives  gathered  in  whisper 
ing  groups,  and  depressed  by  fear  and 
wonder.  On  one  side  were  crowded  all  the 
Messenwah  warriors,  unarmed,  and  as  silent 
and  disturbed  as  the  Opekians.  In  the 
middle  of  the  plaza  some  twenty  sailors  were 
busy  rearing  and  bracing  a  tall  flag-staff 
that  they  had  shaped  from  a  royal  palm,  and 
they  did  this  as  unconcernedly  and  as  con- 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  177 

temptuously,  and  with  as  much  indifference 
to  the  strange  groups  on  either  side  of  them, 
as  though  they  were  working  on  a  barren 
coast,  with  nothing  but  the  startled  sea-gulls 
about  them.  As  Albert  and  Stedman  came 
upon  the  scene,  the  flag-pole  was  in  place, 
and  the  halliards  hung  from  it  with  a  little 
bundle  of  bunting  at  the  end  of  one  of 
them. 

"We  must  find  the  King  at  once,"  said 
Gordon.  He  was  terribly  excited  and  angry. 
"  It  is  easy  enough  to  see  what  this  means. 
They  are  going  through  the  form  of  annexing 
this  island  to  the  other  lands  of  the  German 
government.  They  are  robbing  old  Ollypybus 
of  what  is  his.  They  have  not  even  given 
him  a  silver  watch  for  it." 

The  King  was  in  his  bungalow,  facing  the 
plaza.  Mcssenwah  was  with  him,  and  an 
equal  number  of  each  of  their  councils. 
The  common  danger  had  made  them  lie 
down  together  in  peace ;  but  they  gave  a 
murmur  of  relief  as  Gordon  strode  into  the 
room  with  no  ceremony,  and  greeted  them 
with  a  curt  wave  of  the  hand. 

"Now  then,  Stedman,  be  quick,"  he  said. 
"Explain  to  them  what  this  means;  tell 
12 


178  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

them  that  I  will  protect  them;  that  I  am 
anxious  to  see  that  Ollypybus  is  not  cheated; 
that  we  will  do  all  we  can  for  them." 

Outside,  on  the  shore,  a  second  boat's 
crew  had  landed  a  group  of  officers  and  a  file 
of  marines.  They  walked  in  all  the  dignity 
of  full  dress  across  the  plaza  to  the  flag-pole, 
and  formed  in  line  on  the  three  sides  of 
it,  with  the  marines  facing  the  sea.  The 
officers,  from  the  captain  with  a  prayer 
book  in  his  hand,  to  the  youngest  middy, 
were  as  indifferent  to  the  frightened  natives 
about  them  as  the  other  men  had  been.  The 
natives,  awed  and  afraid,  crouched  back 
among  their  huts,  the  marines  and  the 
sailors  kept  their  eyes  front,  and  the  German 
captain  opened  his  prayer-book.  The  debate 
in  the  bungalow  was  over. 

"If  you  only  had  your  uniform,  sir,"  said 
Bradley,  Sr.,  miserably. 

"This  is  a  little  bit  too  serious  for  uni 
forms  and  bicycle  medals,"  said  Gordon. 
"And  these  men  are  used  to  gold  lace." 

He  pushed  his  way  through  the  natives, 
and  stepped  confidently  across  the  plaza. 
The  youngest  middy  saw  him  coming,  and 
nudged  the  one  next  him  with  his  elbow, 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  179 

and  he  nudged  the  next,  but  none  of  the 
officers  moved,  because  the  captain  had  begun 
to  read. 

"One  minute,  please,"  called  Gordon. 

He  stepped  out  into  the  hollow  square 
formed  by  the  marines,  and  raised  his  helmet 
to  the  captain. 

"Do  you  speak  English  or  French?" 
Gordon  said  in  French ;  "  I  do  not  understand 
German." 

The  captain  lowered  the  book  in  his  hands 
and  gazed  reflectively  at  Gordon  through  his 
spectacles,  and  made  no  reply. 

"If  I  understand  this,"  said  the  younger 
man,  trying  to  be  very  impressive  and  polite, 
"you  are  laying  claim  to  this  land,  in  behalf 
of  the  German  government. " 

The  captain  continued  to  observe  him 
thoughtfully,  and  then  said,  "Thatissso," 
and  then  asked,  "  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"I  represent  the  King  of  this  island, 
Ollypybus,  whose  people  you  see  around  you. 
I  also  represent  the  United  States  govern 
ment  that  does  not  tolerate  a  foreign  power 
near  her  coast,  since  the  days  of  President 
Monroe  and  before.  The  treaty  you  have 
made  with  Messenwah  is  an  absurdity. 


180  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

There  is  only  one  king  with  whom  to  treat, 
and  he  — " 

The  captain  turned  to  one  of  his  officers 
and  said  something,  and  then,  after  giving 
another  curious  glance  at  Gordon,  raised  his 
book  and  continued  reading,  in  a  deep, 
unruffled  monotone.  The  officer  whispered 
an  order,  and  two  of  the  marines  stepped  out 
of  line,  and  dropping  the  muzzles  of  their 
muskets,  pushed  Gordon  back  out  of  the 
enclosure,  and  left  him  there  with  his  lips 
white,  and  trembling  all  over  with  indigna 
tion.  He  would  have  liked  to  have  rushed 
back  into  the  lines  and  broken  the  captain's 
spectacles  over  his  sun-tanned  nose  and 
cheeks,  but  he  was  quite  sure  this  would 
only  result  in  his  getting  shot,  or  in  his  being 
made  ridiculous  before  the  natives,  which 
was  almost  as  bad ;  so  he  stood  still  for  a 
moment,  with  his  blood  choking  him,  and. 
then  turned  and  walked  back  to  where  the 
King  and  Stedman  were  whispering  together. 
Just  as  he  turned,  one  of  the  men  pulled  the 
halyards,  the  ball  of  bunting  ran  up  into  the 
air,  bobbed,  twitched,  and  turned,  and  broke 
into  the  folds  of  the  German  flag.  At  the 
same  moment  the  marines  raised  their 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  181 

muskets  and  fired  a  volley,  and  the  officers 
saluted  and  the  sailors  cheered. 

"  Do  you  see  that  ?  "  cried  Stedman,  catch 
ing  Gordon's  humor,  to  Ollypybus;  "that 
means  that  you  are  no  longer  king,  that 
strange  people  are  coming  here  to  take  your 
land,  and  to  turn  your  people  into  servants, 
and  to  drive  you  back  into  the  mountains. 
Are  you  going  to  submit  ?  are  you  going  to 
let  that  flag  stay  where  it  is  ?  " 

Messenwah  and  Ollypybus  gazed  at  one 
another  with  fearful,  helpless  eyes.  "  We 
are  afraid,"  Ollypybus  cried ;  "  we  do  not 
know  what  we  should  do." 

"What  do  they  say  ?" 

"  They  say  they  do  not  know  what  to  do." 

"I  know  what  I'd  do,"  cried  Gordon. 
"  If  I  were  not  an  American  consul,  I  'd  pull 
down  their  old  flag,  and  put  a  hole  in  their 
boat  and  sink  her." 

"  Well,  I  'd  wait  until  they  get  under  way, 
before  you  do  either  of  those  things,"  said 
Stedman,  soothingly.  "  That  captain  seems  to 
be  a  man  of  much  determination  of  character." 

"  But  I  will  pull  it  down,"  cried  Gordon. 
"  I  will  resign,  as  Travis  did.  I  am  no  longer 
consul.  You  can  be  consul  if  you  want  to. 


182  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

I  promote  you.  I  am  going  up  a  step  higher. 
I  mean  to  be  king.  Tell  those  two,"  he 
ran  on  excitedly,  u  that  their  only  course 
and  only  hope  is  in  me  ;  that  they  must  make 
me  ruler  of  the  island  until  this  thing  is 
over ;  that  I  will  resign  again  as  soon  as  it  is 
settled,  but  that  some  one  must  act  at  once, 
and  if  they  are  afraid  to,  I  am  not,  only  they 
must  give  me  authority  to  act  for  them.  They 
must  abdicate  in  my  favor." 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ? "  gasped  Stedman. 

"  Don't  I  talk  as  if  I  were  ?  "  demanded 
Gordon,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his 
forehead. 

"And  can  I  be  consul?"  said  Stedman, 
cheerfully. 

"  Of  course.  Tell  them  what  I  propose  to 
do." 

Stedman  turned  and  spoke  rapidly  to  the 
two  kings.  The  people  gathered  closer  to 
hear. 

The  two  rival  monarchs  looked  at  one 
another  in  silence  for  a  moment,  and  then 
both  began  to  speak  at  once,  their  counsellors 
interrupting  them  and  mumbling  their  gut 
tural  comments  with  anxious  earnestness.  It 
did  not  take  them  very  long  to  see  that  they 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  183 

were  all  of  one  mind,  and  then  they  both 
turned  to  Gordon  and  dropped  on  one  knee, 
and  placed  his  hands  on  their  foreheads,  and 
Stedman  raised  his  cap. 

"  They  agree,"  he  explained,  for  it  was  but 
pantomime  to  Albert.  "  They  salute  you  as 
a  ruler;  they  are  calling  you  Tellaman, 
which  means  peacemaker.  The  Peacemaker, 
that  is  your  title.  I  hope  you  will  deserve 
it,  but  I  think  they  might  have  chosen  a 
more  appropriate  one." 

"  Then  I  'm  really  King  ?  "  demanded  Al 
bert,  decidedly,  "  and  I  can  do  what  I  please  ? 
They  give  me  full  power.  Quick,  do  they  ?" 

41  Yes,  but  don't  do  it,"  begged  Stedman, 
"  and  just  remember  I  am  American  consul 
now,  and  that  is  a  much  superior  being  to  a 
crowned  monarch  ;  you  said  so  yourself." 

Albert  did  not  reply  to  this,  but  ran  across 
the  plaza  followed  by  the  two  Bradleys. 
The  boats  had  gone. 

"  Hoist  that  flag  beside  the  brass  cannon," 
he  cried,  "  and  stand  ready  to  salute  it  when 
I  drop  this  one." 

Bradley,  Jr.,  grasped  the  halliards  of  the 
flag,  which  he  had  forgotten  to  raise  and 
salute  in  the  morning  in  all  the  excitement 


184  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

of  the  arrival  of  the  man-of-war.  Bradley,  Sr., 
stood  by  the  brass  camion,  blowing  gently 
on  his  lighted  fuse.  The  Peacemaker  took 
the  halliards  of  the  German  flag  in  his  two 
hands,  gave  a  quick,  sharp  tug,  and  down 
came  the  red,  white,  and  black  piece  of  bunt 
ing,  and  the  next  moment  young  Bradley 
sent  the  stars  and  stripes  up  in  their  place. 
As  it  rose,  Bradley's  brass  cannon  barked 
merrily  like  a  little  bull-dog,  and  the  Peace 
maker  cheered. 

"  What  don't  you  cheer,  Stedman  ?  "  he 
shouted.  "  Tell  those  people  to  cheer  for  all 
they  are  worth.  What  sort  of  an  American 
consul  are  you  ?  " 

Stedman  raised  his  arm  half-heartedly  to 
give  the  time,  and  opened  his  mouth ;  but  his 
arm  remained  fixed  and  his  mouth  open, 
while  his  eyes  stared  at  the  retreating  boat  of 
the  German  man-of-war.  In  the  stern  sheets 
of  this  boat,  the  stout  German  captain  was 
struggling  unsteadily  to  his  feet ;  he  raised 
his  arm  and  waved  it  to  some  one  on  the  great 
man-of-war,  as  though  giving  an  order.  The 
natives  looked  from  Stedman  to  the  boat,  and 
even  Gordon  stopped  in  his  cheering  and 
stood  motionless,  watching.  They  had  not 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  185 

very  long  to  wait.  There  was  a  puff  of  white 
smoke,  and  a  flash,  and  then  a  loud  report, 
and  across  the  water  came  a  great  black  ball 
skipping  lightly  through  and  over  the  waves, 
as  easily  as  a  flat  stone  thrown  by  a  boy.  It 
seemed  to  come  very  slowly.  At  least  it 
came  slowly  enough  for  every  one  to  see  that 
it  was  coming  directly  towards  the  brass  can 
non.  The  Bradleys  certainly  saw  this,  for 
they  ran  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  kept  on 
running.  The  ball  caught  the  cannon  under 
its  mouth,  and  tossed  it  in  the  air,  knocking 
the  flag-pole  into  a  dozen  pieces,  and  passing 
on  through  two  of  the  palm-covered  huts. 

"  Great  Heavens,  Gordon  !  "  cried  Stedman ; 
"  they  are  firing  on  us." 

But  Gordon's  face  was  radiant  and  wild. 

"  Firing  on  us!"  he  cried.  "Onws/  Don't 
you  see  ?  Don't  you  understand  ?  What  do 
we  amount  to  ?  They  have  fired  on  the 
American  flag.  Don't  you  see  what  that 
means  ?  It  means  war.  A  great  interna 
tional  war.  And  I  am  a  war  correspondent 
at  last !  "  He  ran  up  to  Stedman  and  seized 
him  by  the  arm  so  tightly  that  it  hurt. 

"By  three  o'clock,"  lie  said,  "they  will 
know  in  the  office  what  has  happened.  The 


186  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

country  will  know  it  to-morrow  when  the 
paper  is  on  the  street ;  people  will  read  it  all 
over  the  world.  The  Emperor  will  hear  of 
it  at  breakfast ;  the  President  will  cable  for 
further  particulars.  He  will  get  them.  It 
is  the  chance  of  a  lifetime,  and  we  are  on 
the  spot ! " 

Stedman  did  not  hear  this ;  he  was  watch 
ing  the  broadside  of  the  ship  to  see  another 
puff  of  white  smoke,  but  there  came  no  such 
sign.  The  two  row-boats  were  raised,  there 
was  a  cloud  of  black  smoke  from  the  funnel, 
a  creaking  of  chains  sounding  faintly  across 
the  water,  and  the  ship  started  at  half  speed 
and  moved  out  of  the  harbor.  The  Opekians 
and  the  Hillmen  fell  on  their  knees,  or  to 
dancing,  as  best  suited  their  sense  of  relief, 
but  Gordon  shook  his  head. 

"  They  are  only  going  to  land  the  ma 
rines,"  he  said ;  "  perhaps  they  are  going  to 
the  spot  they  stopped  at  before,  or  to  take  up 
another  position  further  out  at  sea.  They 
will  land  men  and  then  shell  the  town,  and 
the  land  forces  will  march  here  and  cooperate 
with  the  vessel,  and  everybody  will  be  taken 
prisoner  or  killed.  We  have  the  centre  of 
the  stage,  and  we  are  making  history," 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  187 

"  I  'd  rather  read  it  than  make  it,"  said 
Stedman.  "  Yon  've  got  us  in  a  senseless, 
silly  position,  Gordon,  and  a  mighty  un 
pleasant  one.  And  for  no  reason  that  I  can 
see,  except  to  make  copy  for  your  paper." 

"  Tell  those  people  to  get  their  things  to 
gether,"  said  Gordon,  "  and  march  back  out 
of  danger  into  the  woods.  Tell  Ollypybus  I 
am  going  to  fix  things  all  right;  I  don't 
know  just  how  yet,  hut  I  will,  and  now  come 
after  me  as  quickly  as  you  can  to  the  cable 
office.  I've  got  to  tell  the  paper  all  about 
it." 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  the  "  chap  at 
Octavia"  answered  Stedman's  signalling. 
Then  Stedman  delivered  Gordon's  message, 

O       7 

and  immediately  shut  off  all  connection, 
before  the  Octavia  operator  could  question 
him.  Gordon  dictated  his  message  in  this 
way :  — 

"  Begin  with  the  date  line, '  Opeki,  June  22.' 
"  At  seven  o'clock  this  morning,  the  cap 
tain  and  officers  of  the  German  man-of-war, 
Kaiser,  went  through  the  ceremony  of  annex 
ing  this  island  in  the  name  of  the  German 
Emperor,  basing  their  right  to  do  so  on  an 
agreement  made  with  a  leader  of  a  wandering 


188  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

tribe,  known  as  the  Hillmen.  King  Olly- 
pybus,  the  present  monarch  of  Opeki,  dele 
gated  his  authority,  as  also  did  the  leader 
of  the  Hillmen,  to  King  Tallaman,  or  the 
Peacemaker,  who  tore  down  the  German  flag, 
and  raised  that  of  the  United  States  in  its 
place.  At  the  same  moment  the  flag  was 
saluted  by  the  battery.  This  salute,  being 
mistaken  for  an  attack  on  the  Kaiser,  was 
answered  by  that  vessel.  Her  first  shot  took 
immediate  effect,  completely  destroying  the 
entire  battery  of  the  Opekians,  cutting  down 
the  American  flag,  and  destroying  the  houses 
of  the  people  —  " 

"  There  was  only  one  brass  cannon  and  two 
huts,"  expostulated  Stedman. 

"Well,  that  was  the  whole  battery,  wasn't 
it?"  asked  Gordon,  "and  two  huts  is  plural. 
I  said  houses  of  the  people.  I  could  n't  say 
two  houses  of  the  people.  Just  you  send  this 
as  you  get  it.  You  are  not  an  American 
consul  at  the  present  moment.  You  are  an 
under-paid  agent  of  a  cable  company,  and 
you  send  my  stuff  as  I  write  it.  The  Ameri 
can  residents  have  taken  refuge  in  the  con 
sulate  —  that 's  us,"  explained  Gordon,  "  and 
the  English  residents  have  sought  refuge  in 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  189 

the  woods  —  that 's  the  Bradleys.  King 
Tellaman  —  that 's  me  —  declares  his  inten 
tion  of  fighting  against  the  annexation.  The 
forces  of  the  Opekians  are  under  the  com 
mand  of  Captain  Thomas  Bradley  —  I  guess  I 
might  as  well  made  him  a  colonel  —  of  Colonel 
Thomas  Bradley,  of  the  English  army. 

"  The  American  consul  says  —  Now,  what 
do  you  say,  Stedman  ?  Hurry  up,  please," 
asked  Gordon,  "  and  say  something  good  and 
strong." 

"  You  get  me  all  mixed  up,"  complained 
Stedman,  plaintively.  "Which  am  I  now, 
a  cahle  operator  or  the  American  consul  ?  " 

u  Consul,  of  course.  Say  something  patri 
otic  and  about  your  determination  to  protect 
the  interests  of  your  government,  and  all 
that."  Gordon  bit  the  end  of  his  pencil 
impatiently,  and  waited. 

"  I  won't  do  anything  of  the  sort,  Gordon," 
said  Stedman  ;  "  you  are  getting  me  into  an 
awful  lot  of  trouble,  and  yourself  too.  I 
won't  say  a  word." 

"  The  American  consul,"  read  Gordon,  as 
his  pencil  wriggled  across  the  paper,  "  re 
fuses  to  say  anything  for  publication  until 
he  has  communicated  with  the  authorities  at 


190  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

Washington,  but  from  all  I  can  learn  he 
sympathizes  entirely  with  Tellaman.  Your 
correspondent  has  just  returned  from  an 
audience  with  King  Tellaman,  who  asks  him 
to  inform  the  American  people  that  the 
Monroe  doctrine  will  be  sustained  as  long  as 
he  rules  this  island.  I  guess  that 's  enough 
to  begin  with,"  said  Gordon.  "  Now  send 
that  off  quick,  and  then  get  away  from  the 
instrument  before  the  man  in  Octavia  begins 
to  ask  questions.  I  am  going  out  to  precipi 
tate  matters." 

Gordon  found  the  two  kings  sitting  de 
jectedly  side  by  side,  and  gazing  grimly  upon 
the  disorder  of  the  village,  from  which  the 
people  were  taking  their  leave  as  quickly  as 
they  could  get  their  few  belongings  piled 
upon  the  ox-carts.  Gordon  walked  amongst 
them,  helping  them  in  every  way  he  could, 
and  tasting,  in  their  subservience  and  grat 
itude,  the  sweets  of  sovereignty.  When 
Stedman  had  locked  up  the  cable  office  and 
-rejoined  him,  he  bade  him  tell  Messenwah  to 
send  three  of  his  youngest  men  and  fastest 
runners  back  to  the  hills  to  watch  for  the 
German  vessel  and  see  where  she  was  at 
tempting  to  land  her  marines. 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  191 

"  This  is  a  tremendous  chance  for  de 
scriptive  writing,  Stedman,"  said  Gordon, 
enthusiastically,  "  all  this  confusion  and  ex 
citement,  and  the  people  leaving  their  homes 
and  all  that.  It 's  like  the  people  getting  out 
of  Brussels  before  Waterloo,  and  then  the 
scene  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  while 
they  are  camping  out  there,  until  the  Ger 
mans  leave.  I  never  had  a  chance  like  this 
before." 

It  was  quite  dark  by  six  o'clock,  and  none 
of  the  three  messengers  had  as  yet  returned. 
Gordon  walked  up  and  down  the  empty 
plaza  and  looked  now  at  the  horizon  for  the 
man-of-war,  and  again  down  the  road  back  of 
the  village.  But  neither  the  vessel  nor  the 
messengers,  bearing  word  of  her,  appeared. 
The  night  passed  without  any  incident,  and 
in  the  morning  Gordon's  impatience  became 
so  great  that  he  walked  out  to  where  the 
villagers  were  in  camp  and  passed  on  half 
way  up  the  mountain,  but  he  could  see  no 
sign  of  the  man-of-war.  He  came  back  more 
restless  than  before,  and  keenly  disappointed. 

"  If  something  don't  happen  before  three 
o'clock,  Stedman,"  he  said,  "  our  second 
cablegram  will  have  to  consist  of  glittering 


192  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

generalities  and  a  lengthy  interview  with 
King  Tellaman,  by  himself." 

Nothing  did  happen.  Ollypybus  and  Mes- 
senwah  began  to  breathe  more  freely.  They 
believed  the  new  king  had  succeeded  in 
frightening  the  German  vessel  away  forever. 
But  the  new  king  upset  their  hopes  by  tell 
ing  them  that  the  Germans  had  undoubtedly 
already  landed,  and  had  probably  killed  the 
three  messengers. 

"  Now  then,"  he  said,  with  pleased  expecta 
tion,  as  Stedman  and  he  seated  themselves 
in  the  cable  office  at  three  o'clock,  "  open  it 
up  and  let's  find  out  what  sort  of  an  impres 
sion  we  have  made." 

Stedman's  face,  as  the  answer  came  in  to 
his  first  message  of  greeting,  was  one  of 
strangely  marked  disapproval. 

"  What  does  he  say  ? "  demanded  Gordon, 
anxiously. 

"  Pie  has  n't  done  anything  but  swear  yet," 
answered  Stedman,  grimly. 

"  What  is  he  swearing  about  ?  " 

uHe  wants  to  know  why  I  left  the  cable 
yesterday.  He  says  he  has  been  trying  to 
call  me  up  for  the  last  twenty -four  hours  ever 
since  I  sent  my  message  at  three  o'clock. 


MADE  BIMSELF  KING  193 

The  home  office  is  jumping  mad,  and  want 
me  discharged.  They  won't  do  that,  though," 
he  said,  in  a  cheerful  aside,  "  because  they 
have  n't  paid  me  my  salary  for  the  last  eight 
months.  Pie  says — great  Scott!  this  will 
please  you,  Gordon  — he  says  that  there  have 
been  over  two  hundred  queries  for  matter 
from  papers  all  over  the  United  States,  and 
from  Europe.  Your  paper  beat  them  on  the 
news,  and  now  the  home  office  is  packed  with 
San  Francisco  reporters,  and  the  telegrams  are 
coming  in  every  minute,  and  they  have  been 
abusing  him  for  not  answering  them,  and 
he  says  that  I  'm  a  fool.  He  wants  as  much 
as  you  can  send,  arid  all  the  details.  He  says 
all  the  papers  will  have  to  put  4By  Yokohama 
Cable  Company '  on  the  top  of  each  message 
they  print,  and  that  that  is  advertising  the 
company,  and  is  sending  the  stock  up.  It 
rose  fifteen  points  on  'change  in  San  Fran 
cisco  to-day,  and  the  president  and  the  other 
officers  are  buying  —  " 

"  Oh,  I  don 't  want  to  hear  about  their  old 
company,"  snapped  out  Gordon,  pacing  up 
and  down  in  despair.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ? 
that 's  what  I  want  to  know.  Here  I  have  the 
whole  country  stirred  up  and  begging  for  news. 

13 


194  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

On  their  knees  for  it,  and  a  cable  all  to  myself 
and  the  only  man  on  the  spot,  and  nothing  to 
say.  I  'd  just  like  to  know  how  long  that 
German  idiot  intends  to  wait  before  he  begins 
shelling  this  town  and  killing  people.  He  has 
put  me  in  a  most  absurd  position." 

"  Here's  a  message  for  you,  Gordon,"  said 
Stedman,  with  business-like  calm.  "  Albert 
Gordon,  Correspondent,"  he  read :  "  Try 
American  consul.  First  message  0.  K. ;  beat 
the  country ;  can  take  all  you  send.  Give 
names  of  foreign  residents  massacred,  and 
fuller  account  blowing  up  palace.  Dodge." 

The  expression  on  Gordon's  face  as  this 
message  was  slowly  read  off  to  him,  had 
changed  from  one  of  gratified  pride  to  one 
of  puzzled  consternation. 

"  What 's  he  mean  by  foreign  residents 
massacred,  and  blowing  up  of  palace  ?"  asked 
Stedman,  looking  over  his  shoulder  anxiously. 
"  Who  is  Dodge  ?  " 

"  Dodge  is  the  night  editor,"  said  Gordon, 
nervously.  "  They  must  have  read  my  mes 
sage  wrong.  You  sent  just  what  I  gave  you, 
didn  't  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  said  Stedman,  indig 
nantly. 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  195 

"  I  did  n't  say  anything  about  the  massacre 
of  anybody,  did  I  ?  "  asked  Gordon.  "  I  hope 
they  are  not  improving  on  my  account.  What 
am  I  to  do  ?  This  is  getting  awful.  I  '11  have 
to  go  out  and  kill  a  few  people  myself.  Oh, 
why  don't  that  Dutch  captain  begin  to  do 
something  !  What  sort  of  a  fighter  does  he 
call  himself  ?  He  would  n't  shoot  at  a  school 
of  porpoises.  He  's  not  —  " 

"  Here  comes  a  message  to  Leonard  T. 
Travis,  American  consul,  Opeki,"  read  Sted- 
man.  "  It 's  raining  messages  to-day.  '  Send 
full  details  of  massacre  of  American  citizens 
by  German  sailors.'  Secretary  of  —  great 
Scott !  "  gasped  Stedman,  interrupting  him 
self  and  gazing  at  his  instrument  with  horri 
fied  fascination  —  u  the  Secretary  of  State." 

"  That  settles  it,"  roared  Gordon,  pulling  at 
his  hair  and  burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 
"  I  have  got  to  kill  some  of  them  now." 

"  Albert  Gordon,  Correspondent,"  read 
Stedman,  impressively,  like  the  voice  of 
Fate.  "  Is  Colonel  Thomas  Bradley  com 
manding  native  forces  at  Opeki,  Colonel  Sir 
Thomas  Kent-Bradley  of  Crimean  war  fame  ? 
Correspondent  London  Times,  San  Francisco 
Press  Club." 


196  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

"  Go  on,  go  on  !  "  said  Gordon,  desperately. 
"  I  'm  getting  used  to  it  now.  Go  on  !  " 

"  American  consul,  Opeki,"  read  Stedman. 
"  Home  Secretary  desires  you  to  furnish  list 
of  names  English  residents  killed  during 
shelling  of  Opeki  by  ship  of  war  Kaiser, 
and  estimate  of  amount  property  destroyed. 
Stoughton,  British  Embassy,  Washington." 

"  Stedman  !  "  cried  Gordon,  jumping  to  his 
feet,  "  there 's  a  mistake  here  somewhere. 
These  people  cannot  all  have  made  my  mes 
sage  read  like  that.  Some  one  has  altered  it, 
and  now  I  have  got  to  make  these  people  here 
live  up  to  that  message,  whether  they  like 
being  massacred  and  blown  up  or  not.  Don't 
answer  any  of  those  messages,  except  the  one 
from  Dodge;  tell  him  things  have  quieted 
down  a  bit,  and  that  I  '11  send  four  thousand 
words  on  the  flight  of  the  natives  from  the 
village,  and  their  encampment  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains,  and  of  the  exploring  party 
we  have  sent  out  to  look  for  the  German 
vessel ;  and  now  I  am  going  out  to  make 
something  happen." 

Gordon  said  that  he  would  be  gone  for  two 
hours  at  least,  and  as  Stedman  did  not  feel 
capable  of  receiving  any  more  nerve-stirring 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  197 

messages,  he  cut  off  all  connection  with 
Octavia,  by  saying,  "  Good-by  for  two  hours." 
and  running  away  from  the  office.  He  sat 
down  on  a  rock  on  the  beach,  and  mopped 
his  face  with  his  handkerchief. 

"  After  a  man  has  taken  nothing  more  ex 
citing  than  weather  reports  from  Octavia  for 
a  year,"  he  soliloquized,  "  it 's  a  bit  disturb 
ing  to  have  all  the  crowned  heads  of  Europe 
and  their  secretaries  calling  upon  you  for 
details  of  a  massacre  that  never  came  off." 

At  the  end  of  two  hours  Gordon  returned 
from  the  consulate  with  a  mass  of  manuscript 
in  his  hand. 

"  Here 's  three  thousand  words,"  he  said 
desperately.'  "I  never  wrote  more  and  said 
less  in  my  life.  It  will  make  them  weep  at 
the  office.  I  had  to  pretend  that  they  knew 
all  that  had  happened  so  far ;  they  apparently 
do  know  more  than  we  do,  and  I  have  filled  it 
full  of  prophesies  of  more  trouble  ahead,  and 
with  interviews  with  myself  and  the  two  ex- 
Kings.  The  only  news  element  in  it  is,  that 
the  messengers  have  returned  to  report  that 
the  German  vessel  is  not  in  sight,  and  that 
there  is  no  news.  They  think  she  has  gone 
for  good.  Suppose  she  has,  Stcdman,"  he 


198  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

groaned,  looking  at  him  helplessly,  "  what  am 
I  going  to  do  ?" 

"Well,  as  for  me,"  said  Stedman,  "I'm 
afraid  to  go  near  that  cable.  It 's  like  play 
ing  with  a  live  wire.  My  nervous  system 
won't  stand  many  more  such  shocks  as  those 
they  gave  us  this  morning." 

Gordon  threw  himself  down  dejectedly  in 
a  chair  in  the  office,  and  Stedman  approached 
his  instrument  gingerly,  as  though  it  might 
explode. 

"  He 's  swearing  again,"  he  explained  sadly, 
in  answer  to  Gordon's  look  of  inquiry.  "  He 
wants  to  know  when  I  am  going  to  stop  run 
ning  away  from  the  wire.  He  has  a  stack  of 
messages  to  send,  he  says,  but  I  guess  he  'd 
better  wait  and  take  your  copy  first ;  don't 
you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Gordon.  "  I  don't  want 
any  more  messages  than  I  've  had.  That 's 
the  best  I  can  do,"  he  said,  as  he  threw  his 
manuscript  down  beside  Stedman.  u  And 
they  can  keep  on  cabling  until  the  wire  burns 
red  hot,  and  they  won't  get  any  more." 

There  was  silence  in  the  office  for  some 
time,  while  Stedman  looked  over  Gordon's 
copy,  and  Gordon  stared  dejectedly  out  at  the 
ocean. 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  199 

"  This  is  pretty  poor  stuff,  Gordon,"  said 
Stedman.  "It's  like  giving  people  milk 
when  they  want  brandy/' 

"  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  that  ? "  growled 
Gordon.  "  It 's  the  best  I  can  do,  is  n't  it  ? 
It's  not  my  fault  that  we  are  not  all  dead 
now.  I  can't  massacre  foreign  residents  if 
there  are  no  foreign  residents,  but  I  can  com 
mit  suicide  though,  and  I  '11  do  it  if  something 
don't  happen." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  in  which  the 
silence  of  the  office  was  only  broken  by  the 
sound  of  the  waves  beating  on  the  coral  reefs 
outside.  Stedman  raised  his  head  wearily. 

"  He  's  swearing  again,"  he  said;  "  he  says 
this  stuff  of  yours  is  all  nonsense.  He  says 
stock  in  the  Y.  C.  C.  lias  gone  up  to  one 
hundred  and  two,  and  that  owners  are  un 
loading  and  making  their  fortunes,  and  that 
this  sort  of  descriptive  writing  is  not  what 
the  company  want." 

"What's  he  think  I'm  here  for?"  cried 
Gordon.  "  Does  he  think  I  pulled  down  the 
German  flag  and  risked  my  neck  half  a  dozen 
times  and  had  myself  made  King  just  to 
boom  his  Yokohama  cable  stock  ?  Confound 
him  !  You  might  at  least  swear  back.  Tell 


200  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

him  just  what  the  situation  is  in  a  few  words. 
Here,  stop  that  rigmarole  to  the  paper,  and 
explain  to  your  home  office  that  we  are 
awaiting  developments,  and  that,  in  the 
meanwhile,  they  must  put  up  with  the  best 
we  can  send  them.  Wait;  send  this  to 
Octavia." 

Gordon  wrote  rapidly,  and  read  what  he 
wrote  as  rapidly  as  it  was  written. 

"  Operator,  Octavia.  You  seem  to  have 
misunderstood  my  first  message.  The  facts 
in  the  case  are  these.  A  German  man-of-war 
raised  a  flag  on  this  island.  It  was  pulled 
down  and  the  American  flag  raised  in  its 
place  and  saluted  by  a  brass  cannon.  The 
German  man-of-war  fired  once  at  the  flag  and 
knocked  it  down,  and  then  steamed  away  and 
has  not  been  seen  since.  Two  huts  were 
upset,  that  is  all  the  damage  done ;  the  bat 
tery  consisted  of  the  one  brass  cannon  before 
mentioned.  No  one,  either  native  or  foreign, 
has  been  massacred.  The  English  residents 
are  two  sailors.  The  American  residents  are 
the  young  man  who  is  sending  you  this  cable 
and  myself.  Our  first  message  was  quite 
true  in  substance,  but  perhaps  misleading  in 
detail.  I  made  it  so  because  I  fully  expected 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  201 

much  more  to  happen  immediately.  Nothing 
has  happened,  or  seems  likely  to  happen,  and 
that  is  the  exact  situation  up  to  date.  Albert 
Gordon." 

"  Now,"  he  asked  after  a  pause, "  what  does 
he  say  to  that  ?  " 

"  He  does  n't  say  anything,"  said  Stedman. 

"  I  guess  he  has  fainted.  Here  it  comes," 
he  added  in  the  same  breath.  He  bent 
toward  his  instrument,  and  Gordon  raised 
himself  from  his  chair  and  stood  beside  him 
as  he  read  it  off.  The  two  young  men 
hardly  breathed  in  the  intensity  of  their 
interest. 

"  Dear  Stedman,"  he  slowly  read  aloud. 
"  You  and  your  young  friend  are  a  couple  of 
fools.  If  you  had  allowed  me  to  send  you  the 
messages  awaiting  transmission  here  to  you, 
you  would  not  have  sent  me  such  a  confession 
of  guilt  as  you  have  just  done.  You  had  bet 
ter  leave  Opeki  at  once  or  hide  in  the  hills. 
I  am  afraid  I  have  placed  you  in  a  somewhat 
compromising  position  with  the  company, 
which  is  unfortunate,  especially  as,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  they  owe  you  some  back  pay.  You 
should  have  been  wiser  in  your  day,  and  bought 
Y.  C.  C.  stock  when  it  was  down  to  five  cents, 


202  THE  REPORTER    WHO 

as  *  yours  truly'  did.  You  are  not,  Stedman, 
as  bright  a  boy  as  some.  And  as  for  your 
friend,  the  war  correspondent,  he  has  queered 
himself  for  life.  You  see,  my  dear  Stedman, 
after  I  had  sent  off  your  first  message,  and 
demands  for  further  details  came  pouring  in, 
and  I  could  not  get  you  at  the  wire  to  supply 
them,  I  took  the  liberty  of  sending  some  on 
myself." 

u  Great  Heavens ! "  gasped  Gordon. 

Stedman  grew  very  white  under  his  tan,  and 
the  perspiration  rolled  on  his  cheeks. 

"  Your  message  was  so  general  in  its  nature, 
that  it  allowed  my  imagination  full  play,  and 
I  sent  on  what  I  thought  would  please  the 
papers,  and,  what  was  much  more  important 
to  me,  would  advertise  the  Y.  C.  C.  stock.  This 
I  have  been  doing  while  waiting  for  material 
from  you.  Not  having  a  clear  idea  of  the 
dimensions  or  population  of  Opeki,  it  is  possi 
ble  that  I  have  done  you  and  your  newspaper 
friend  some  injustice.  I  killed  off  about  a 
hundred  American  residents,  two  hundred 
English,  because  I  do  not  like  the  English,  and 
a  hundred  French.  I  blew  up  old  Ollypybus 
and  his  palace  with  dynamite,  and  shelled  the 
city,  destroying  some  hundred  thousand  dol- 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  203 

lars'  worth  of  property,  and  then  I  waited 
anxiously  for  your  friend  to  substantiate  what 
I  had  said.  This  he  has  most  unkindly  failed 
to  do.  I  am  very  sorry,  but  much  more  so  for 
him  than  for  myself,  for  I,  my  dear  friend, 
have  cabled  on  to  a  man  in  San  Francisco, 
who  is  one  of  the  directors  of  the  Y.  C.  C.,  to 
sell  all  my  stock,  which  he  has  done  at  one 
hundred  and  two,  and  he  is  keeping  the  money 
until  I  come.  And  I  leave  Octavia  this  after 
noon  to  reap  my  just  reward.  I  am  in  about 
twenty  thousand  dollars  on  your  little  war,  and 
I  feel  grateful.  So  much  so  that  I  will  inform 
you  that  the  ship  of  war  Kaiser  has  arrived  at 
San  Francisco,  for  which  port  she  sailed  directly 
from  Opeki.  Her  captain  has  explained  the 
real  situation,  and  offered  to  make  every  amend 
for  the  accidental  indignity  shown  to  our  flag. 
He  says  he  aimed  at  the  cannon,  which  was 
trained  on  his  vessel,  and  which  had  first 
fired  on  him.  But  you  must  know,  my  dear 
Stedman,  that  before  his  arrival,  war  vessels 
belonging  to  the  several  powers  mentioned  in 
my  revised  dispatches,  had  started  for  Opeki 
at  full  speed,  to  revenge  the  butchery  of  the 
foreign  residents.  A  word,  my  dear  young 
friend,  to  the  wise  is  sufficient.  I  am  indebted 


204  THE  REPORTER   WHO 

to  you  to  the  extent  of  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars,  and  in  return  I  give  you  this  kindly 
advice.  Leave  Opeki.  If  there  is  no  other 
way,  swim.  But  leave  Opeki." 

The  sun,  that  night,  as  it  sank  below  the 
line  where  the  clouds  seemed  to  touch  the  sea, 
merged  them  both  into  a  blazing,  blood-red 
curtain,  and  colored  the  most  wonderful  spec 
tacle  that  the  natives  of  Opeki  had  ever  seen. 
Six  great  ships  of  war,  stretching  out  over  a 
league  of  sea,  stood  blackly  out  against  the 
red  background,  rolling  and  rising,  and  leap 
ing  forward,  flinging  back  smoke  and  burning 
sparks  up  into  the  air  behind  them,  and  throb 
bing  and  panting  like  living  creatures  in  their 
race  for  revenge.  From  the  south,  came  a 
three-decked  vessel,  a  great  island  of  floating 
steel,  with  a  flag  as  red  as  the  angry  sky  be 
hind  it,  snapping  in  the  wind.  To  the  south 
of  it  plunged  two  long  low-lying  torpedo  boats, 
flying  the  French  tri-color,  and  still  further  to 
the  north  towered  three  magnificent  hulls  of 
the  White  Squadron.  Vengeance  was  writ 
ten  on  every  curve  and  line,  on  each  strain 
ing  engine  rod,  and  on  each  polished  gun 
muzzle. 

And  in  front  of  these,  a  clumsy  fishing  boat 


MADE  HIMSELF  KING  205 

rose  and  fell  on  each  passing  wave.  Two  sail 
ors  sat  in  the  stern,  holding  the  rope  and  tiller, 
and  in  the  bow,  with  their  backs  turned  for 
ever  toward  Opeki,  stood  two  young  boys,  their 
faces  lit  by  the  glow  of  the  setting  sun  and 
stirred  by  the  sight  of  the  great  engines  of 
war  plunging  past  them  on  their  errand  of 
vengeance. 

"  Stedman,"  said  the  elder  boy,  in  an  awe 
struck  whisper,  and  with  a  wave  of  his  hand, 
"  we  have  not  lived  in  vain." 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


REC'D  LD 


DEC  27  1909s3 
LD 


i«Si? 


nil  031999 


'AUTO.  DISC. MAR  11  '87 


LD  2lA-60m-4,'64 
(E4555slO)476B 


General  Library 
University  of  California 


YB  74135 
U.C.  BERKELEY LIBRARIES 


BD0102MMS1 


